


Take A Complicated Situation, Unfuck It, and Then Make Do

by I_Lovetherain (ilovetherain)



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Post-War, Ensemble - Freeform, M/M, spawnverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:27:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovetherain/pseuds/I_Lovetherain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Brad's ex-wife dies and Brad and Nate find themselves in charge of Brad's three sons, things get complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> BEWARE! The characters in this fic are inspired solely to the characters in the HBO miniseries Generation Kill and AND HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THE REAL PEOPLE.  
> Wonderful and professional beta job has been provided by Kahtyasofia.  
> Warning! AU, so AU it hurts. And Spawn! And a very special lot, indeed.  
> Disclaimer: I don't own Generation Kill, I don't make money with this and this story is inspired by the characters as portrayed on the HBO TV Show

When Nate Fick had agreed to move in with Brad Colbert one year ago - after a good number of sleepless nights pondering the pros and the cons and changing his mind at least ten times an hour - he had perfectly figured out how their life together was going to be: a large, quiet house in Boston's suburbs, with enough room to avoid each other if they needed to. Nate carrying on with his studies at Harvard, writing articles and a part-time consulting job at CNAS, Brad pursuing his career with the Corps. They'd have time together, just the two of them, to enjoy sex, barbeques, riding Brad's motorcycle, hanging out with friends and having more sex.

Nate could cope with this; an agreement that left them free to follow their own paths and, at the same time, that let Nate adjust to his new life as a civilian and as Brad Colbert's partner.

What Nate, and Brad even less so, wasn't ready to cope with was Brad's ex-wife. She had left him for a musician the day after Brad had shipped out to Iraq, taking their three children with her. Two and a half months ago, she'd been found dead of an overdose, leaving the kids to their father, Brad Colbert.

And now, at three in the morning, Nate is sitting wide-awake in the dark, knees pressed to his chest and hands over his ears. He is trying to block out the screaming and the thumping coming from the room at the end of the corridor – the very room that had been meant to become Nate's office, but never did.

Beside him, Brad sleeps peacefully and when Nate kicks him in the thigh, hard, the only sound that comes from the lump under the quilt is a grunt. Nate has never been a heavy sleeper, not during his time as a Recon Marine, and not now. Brad, on the other hand, can fall dead asleep regardless an AT4 exploding two meters from his head, or the cries of three overexcited children in the near room.

***

The screaming stops the moment Nate opens the door, just like it has the previous three times he's done this.

Ray is nowhere in sight but that doesn't mean he has nothing to do with this. At ten, Ray can easily outsmart Brad and Nate. He's clever, gregarious, petulant, and even if he's the only one who has memories of Brad as his father, he categorically refuses to call him "Dad". For his part, Brad doesn't mind. He doesn't see himself as the fatherly type and when Nate questioned why he had produced spawn, Brad's laconic answer was that the first time he'd been too young. The following two times he'd been too drunk.

Luckily, Brad had been adamant about the fact that they couldn't keep the kids and wanted to give them up for adoption. Nate had felt hugely relieved and they had immediately taken steps, but things were far from easy.

The past two months have been a living hell. Acclimating has been hard on both sides, especially with Ray confronting and questioning everything Brad and Nate say or do. If it wasn't for the discrete but necessary support from their families and the concrete help of Mike Wynn, the Social Worker who was in charge of Brad's kids' case following their mother's death, things would have been fucked up pretty badly.

Nate's only wish is to return to the organized stability of his life as a student, a writer and a consultant. Even re-enlisting in the Corps at the moment seems a better option.

"What's going on in here?" The question is rhetorical; Nate knows nobody is going to answer.

The room is a mess; books, clothes, and toys scattered everywhere. Ray's bed – nothing more than a camp bed since neither Brad or Nate consider this arrangement permanent enough to set up a child's bedroom – has been completely stripped of its sheets and quilt and the mattress is pushed up against the wall.

In the center of the chaos, almost completely hidden under Ray's blanket, Nate finds Walt.

Walt is five; he's a sweet, polite kid who obstinately refuses to speak. It's not that he is dumb, or anything like that. He answers when questioned and makes requests, always politely, when he needs something. He's also perfectly aware and very self-sufficient for a five year old: he feeds himself, dresses himself, and goes to the head alone. He obeys when asked to do something, watches television, and understands whatever he's told. The problem is, he neither participates in conversations nor chatters like kids are supposed to do. He just stays silent and, somehow, disinterested in what's happening around him. So, following Brad's Mom's suggestion, they're taking him to a Child Psychologist with, so far, no results.

Nate kneels on the floor and brings Walt onto his lap; the kid cooperates, as he always does, and lets Nate hold him.

"I know you didn't do this," Nate murmurs. Walt turns his translucent eyes at him and Nate kisses his soft hair.

He is still gathering the strength to stand and clean up the mess when something hard and angular hits him right on the forehead.

"Shit!"

"Shit!" James' voice is all giggles and squeaks and he claps his hands and repeats again "Shit! Shitty shit!" Then he grabs a Lego piece and, this time, aims for Walt. Nate's faster and the red brick hits his hand instead of Walt's eye.

"Harold James Colbert! You little-" but Nate knows cursing isn't going to help, especially with a three year old. He calls on his Recon Marine training and, in the matter of a few seconds, efficiently lays Walt on his bed, removes another piece of Lego from James's hand then grabs him by his pajamas, lifting him over his head.

"James, you have to stop throwing things at people, you could seriously hurt somebody." James stares at him, defiantly, and then grins in a way that Nate finds disquieting in a child.

"You're wasting your time, man. Can't you see he's a retard? They both are."

Ray stands in the doorway, hair rumpled and his mouth is a cherry mess of horrible pink, sticky milk shake. He is intentionally provoking him; Nate knows this, so he just lets it go.

"Why did you do this?" Nate asks, gesturing around the room.

"Hey? How's it always Ray's fault when Ray ain't even around? I was in the kitchen, making a cherry frosty milk shake. Do you know how long it takes to make a cherry frosty milk shake right? Ten minutes to make it, forty minutes for it to get the right kind of icy and five minutes to drink it. See? I drank it all."

"This I can see." Nate tries not to laugh at Ray's messy face.

"Besides, I'm too old to act like this. You know what? You're too soft with these brats. Too soft. I'm telling you, they're fooling you with their baby-faces and shit. You gotta be careful, man, or they'll turn into gangsta punks when they grow up. This is gonna to cost you a fortune in bail and lawyers."

"What's the problem here, Gents?"

The silence that suddenly envelops the room is almost palpable. Brad's a dark silhouette in the doorway; his eyes are blood-shot and Nate is stupidly happy about this because it means he's not the only one suffering from sleep deprivation.

"It seems we had a Shamal in here," Nate informs him.

"A Shamal?"

"Yes."

"Or it might've been ninja turtles," Ray offers.

Brad raises and eyebrow. "Indeed?"

"Yep, green-assed, sword-waving ninja turtles that think this room is too small for two snotty kids and a young man in puberty who needs his privacy."

Brad stares at his son and then looks over at Nate. "Does this seem surreal to you, too?"

"I don't know Brad," Nate says, "but you'd better unfuck this now because if I don't catch few hours of sleep tonight I might go on a murder spree. And you know I'm fucking serious right now."

Luckily, James is nodding off so Nate puts him in bed and helps Walt into his.

"Ray." A glance from Nate, and Brad kneels in front of his son. Rule number five of Mike Wynn's "How to deal with complicated and petulant kids": if you want something from them, treat them as an equal. Brad thinks this is all bullshit but Nate trusts Mike and thinks it's worth a try, so Brad's willing to give it a shot.

"Ray," Brad starts again, looking his son right in the eye. "You know we can't turn the entire house into a kindergarten just because you think you're too grown-up and too smart to share your room with your brothers. From what I've been told, you three lived packed-up in a trailer with your mother and two stray dogs. This room is like a five-star Hilton compared to that. Besides, we need you to keep an eye on your younger brothers while Nate and I-"

"Get some?"

"Ray!"

"Ahhh, c'mon! Don't try this whiskey tango moto crap on me, Brad. You know it's not gonna work. I told _him_ the mess wasn't my fault. You don't believe me? Fine, I'll live with it. How copy, man?"

Nate and Brad exchange a look and then stare at Ray.

"May I ask where you learned that kind of vocabulary?" Nate asks.

Ray shrugs. "Black Hawk Down?"

"I doubt it," Nate looks sideways at Brad who, as usual, is wearing a mask of impenetrability.

"I'm going back to bed now," Nate informs "and I want this mess cleaned up before tomorrow morning."

"Hey! Who's helping me with the mattress?" Ray squeaks.

"Ask the ninja turtles."

***

In the morning, James is running a fever so Nate offers to take Walt to the weekly meeting with the psychologist and leaves Brad to deal with the pediatrician. Luckily, Brad agrees and Nate is grateful he has a chance to leave the house for a few hours.

"You know what?" Nate asks Walt while helping him into his jacket. "If we finish early, I'll take you to see the ducks and we'll eat sandwiches while we watch them. What do you think?"

Walt simply nods; but Nate likes to think he's happy about this.

"C'mon Ray, I don't want you to be late for school." Nate says, but Ray's already on the door.

"I'm going with Gabe's Mom."

"And who is-" Nate's about to ask but Brad nods at him so, apparently, he knows who Gabe's Mom is.

Gabe's Mom makes her appearance in an old SUV at that very moment and Ray runs out, slamming the door in Nate's face.

"He says he doesn't want you or me to take him to school anymore," Brad says blankly, trying to hold a struggling James still. "He says he's trying to 'socialize' and doesn't want his queer Dad and his boyfriend to fuck this up."

Right. Nate has no time at the moment to deal with this, so he adds this piece of information to the list of "things we need to sort out sooner or later," grabs Walt's hand and leaves without another word.

***

In Nate's opinion, the meetings with the psychologist are just a waste of time. Nate doesn't need a fucking doctor to tell him that Walt's obstinate silence is a reaction to trauma. He already knows this. Walt's mother overdosed and died in front of him, puking and shitting herself and shaking like a fucking electrocuted frog; a display that, luckily, both James and Ray had been spared of since Ray was hanging out with his pals and James was with Sheila's neighbor. After that they'd been dropped at the home of these two really tall strangers, one of which, Walt had been informed, was his father. How the fuck should a five-year-old kid react to something like that?

What Nate wants desperately to know is if there is any chance for Walt to recover somehow. But the answer is always the same: we don't know; we need to work with him, we need time.

And time is a luxury he and Brad, can't afford right now. Not with damn Schwetje, Teaching Assistant in Professor Ferrando's Leadership and Organizational Behavior course at Harvard and complete asshole, harassing him about his research. Not with the new project for CNAS he so badly wants to be assigned to. Not with Brad coming and going from Camp Pendleton and not with the adoption procedures they need to start as soon as possible.

After another useless hour spent with the psychologist, they go to the park and when Nate thinks Walt shows interest in the ducks, he buys duck food from the automatic dispensers placed around the pond.

The morning mist has lifted and the day has turned beautiful and sunny. September in Boston can be very pleasant, with the trees starting to change colors and the days still warm.

Walt sits beside Nate on the bench and he seems to enjoy scattering the food for the ducks, his cheeks are pleasantly flushed and he moves his eyes back and forth from the ducks in the pond, to the wooden swans decorating the ornate boat and the to other kids screaming and laughing at the edge of the pond.

"Are you having fun, little man?" Nate asks, ruffling Walt's hair. Walt nods. He watches the trees and the wonderful colors of their falling leaves.

"You know, your Dad and I once served together in the Iraqi desert. As Recon Marines. The trees are different there, very different. The weather is very different too; it's very hot during the day and awfully cold at night. They have palms there, you know? Big palms like the ones where monkeys eat coconuts. But I've never seen monkeys in Iraq. I suspect they all ran away after the war began."

Nate's not even sure what he's talking about but somehow, he thinks that just talking is very important: Walt is staring at him, actually listening to him; his eyes are wide and totally focused. Nate keeps on talking about Iraq, Arabian camels, elephants, goats and tanks, his heart beating a little faster than usual.

They eat ham and cheese sandwiches on the bench facing the pond. Nate talks about ducks and swans and other species he barely knows. Walt eats and doesn't miss a bit of what Nate is saying.

An old lady with an ugly fat dog stops by and pats Walt's head. "What a good Daddy you are," she says addressing Nate "and what a lovely kid." Nate tightens his lips in an embarrassed smile, but when the lady is far enough away, Nate makes a funny face at her and Walt giggles.

Before they leave, Nate throws a few bits of his sandwich to the ducks. Walt does the same and then looks at Nate.

"I want to see elephants," he says,

Nate smiles his first very genuine smile in a long time. "Do you? Well then, we'll really have to visit the Franklin zoo one of these weekends."

_Fuck doctors_, he thinks.


	2. Part II

"May I ask you where you've been and why your cell phone is turned off?"

Nate has just opened the door and Brad is in a very pissed-off Iceman mood. He glances at his watch. It's 3 pm already; he didn't realize it was this late and his stupid cell battery had run low again. He needs to buy a new one.

"Sorry, we went to the Public Garden and fed the ducks. Time just flew. How is James?"

"Fine, the doctor said it's just a cold, gave him some Children's Tylenol and told me to keep him hydrated. He also said he's a little underweight and we have to adjust his diet.

"Did he tell you how we're supposed to change James' diet?"

"Nope."

"No? Did you ask at least?"

Brad shrugs and Nate feels like he wants to hit something. Possibly Brad.

"Brad, you have to stop acting like this."

"Like what?"

"Like you don't care. These kids're yours, whether you like it or not. You have to work with me on this until-" He is suddenly aware of Walt watching him; all the earlier liveliness gone. Nate can't help but feel a pang of guilt for overreacting in front of him.

"Hey Walt, don't mind us. We're grown ups. Grown ups say stupid things all the time." He throws a hard look at Brad. "C'mon, let's see if we can find some books with picture of those animals we were talking about earlier."

When Nate comes back into the living room half an hour later, Brad is working on an old radio component he found in a military memorabilia market a few months ago. The seller assured Brad the thing was dead, missing several pieces and there was no way it could work again. Brad took it as a challenge.

"James is sleeping and Walt is looking at animal pictures in my old National Geographics; nothing new with the psychologist, by the way," Nate informs him. "I'm gonna be working for a while; I've an article to write and I desperately need to finish that paper work for Schwetje or I'll never pass that class."

Brad keeps working on the radio, humming some tune.

"Brad?"

Nothing.

"Sergeant!"

Brad's head springs up out of habit. He looks at Nate, confused, and then smirks.

"Yes, sir?" Brad says standing up.

"What's going on in there, Sergeant Colbert?" Nate asks pointing at Brad's head.

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir."

Nate tilts his head slightly to the right and his lips contract into a tight line. "I'm not joking, Brad."

"Well, sir, I think you should find another course and tell Schwetje to fuck himself. And, if I can be brutally honest, we've hardly had a decent fuck in a month and I'm getting blue balls and raw fingers. _Sir_. That's what's going on."

"That's not what I'm talking about, you know it."

"Then what?" Brad takes a few steps closer, shoulders hunched. "What am I supposed to do?" His face is a few inches from Nate's and his breath comes out in quick, ragged puffs that make Nate's skin tingle. "I don't want to take care of those kids; I want to be a Marine."

"You should have thought about that before you stuck your dick in their mother's pussy; it's a bit too late now to complain, don't you think?" Nate can't hold back the sarcasm poisoning this voice.

Brad moves quickly and Nate finds himself pinned against the wall; the impact makes him grunt in surprise. He could react, he could fight back, but he doesn't want to. It would be loud, and messy.

Brad grasps Nate's jaw and smirks. "Don't talk about things you don't understand. You don't even know what a pussy looks like."

"And you stop changing the subject."

They are so close now their breath mingles.

Brad is hard, Nate can feel it. Brad is hard and he's rocking against him and Nate is getting hard too and this is not right. It's not the right moment, or the right place, and Brad is just trying to distract him from the real issue. But Nate can't remember the last time they'd had sex like this, rough and careless, and the mere thought makes him shake.

"Now I'm going to fuck you," Brad whispers against Nate's lips "and then we're going to talk."

"That's not a good idea, Brad. The kids are..." But Brad has already turned him against the wall, opened his jeans, and lowered them just under Nate's ass. Brad's breath ghosts on the nape of Nate's neck, giving him goose bumps.

"Do just as you did that time in Baghdad, sir: keep quiet."

Nate closes his eyes, he wishes he had the strength to protest but he doesn't. He needs this, badly. Brad is stroking him, touching him everywhere, thumbing his nipples through the fabric of his shirt until they're hard and tingling, sucking at the back of his neck and biting it hard in a heavy silence. Nate keeps quiet, swallowing down his own breathing.

"You have no idea how much I've missed it, Nate, you..." Brad's voice is low and a bit desperate. "Fuck. Lube is..."

"Don't mind. Don't stop."

Like at the cigarette factory in Baghdad. He and Brad on the floor, surrounded by sleeping and exhausted Marines. Barely moving, silent, efficient as in everything Brad does. Brad fucked him hard with his fingers; no lube, just spit and sweat. A burning pain and Nate had to bite his lips so hard they bled.

Like now. Nate can feel the copper taste burning his throat while he swallows blood and saliva and sobs that are a bit of pain and a whole lot of lust. Brad fucks him raw, against the wall, slow and silent. He jerks Nate off with one hand and with the other he turns Nate's head and holds his chin so he can kiss him, fuck his mouth as well.

Nate comes first, throbbing into Brad's palm. Brad follows and the little grunt he's not able to suppress offers Nate a moment of useless triumph.

They stay still for a while, catching their breath and lucidity until their weight is too much for Nate's arms to handle and he disentangles, gentle but resolute, from Brad's grasp.

Brad cleans them roughly with his t-shirt and then slides down onto the floor, dragging Nate with him.

Nate needs to wash, something it seems he can never get enough of since he came back from Iraq, but he knows if he leaves now, there might not be another moment; so he awaits.

Brad looks weary and, for the first time since they met, helpless.

"I don't know what to do, Nate. I'm a Marine, a warrior. I kill people; I can't take care of these kids. They deserve better."

"I know, but right now they are your responsibility and they might be for some time because you know finding a loving couple ready to take three kids this fucked up is not going to be an easy task. And you remember what Mike said about Ray finishing at least this semester. He's just starting to make friends, teachers say he's doing well, and considering what he's been through, this is a fucking miracle. We can't screw everything up."

"Yeah but, what do I do in the mean time? I mean... When I look at them, I see three perfect little strangers who expect me to take care of them, to feed them and do other things parents do but I have no clue about."

"Brad, you led people into war. Your men entrusted you with their lives and you never let them down. You took care of them. Do the same thing with these kids, win their trust, and protect them the best you can. If you can't figure out how to act like a father, then act like a leader."

"My men were grown up and trained killers, it's a little different."

"I could argue about some of your men being grown ups... Besides, I'm quite sure Ray's collection of porn magazines would make them green with envy; and as for the killer part, James has a future as a sniper, that's for sure." Nate touches the lump on his forehead and Brad chuckles. "And Walt, I'm sure we took a small step in the right direction today. It was amazing. Maybe it's just wishful thinking but I want to work on it. Don't give'em up. It's not the right thing to do. Consider this your mission, at least until January."

Brad exhales a deep breath and when he speaks his voice is a bit shaken.

"I'll try. This is the only thing I can promise. But I need you with me on this."

Nate nods. "You know I am. And about James' diet, I'm going to ask Mike. I'm sure he'll be more helpful than that fucking pediatrician."

 

***

Later, when Nate quietly opens the door to the kids' room, both Walt and James are sitting under a tent made of blankets. Walt is pointing at the animals on the book and James says the names aloud; Walt nods and James claps his hands happily.

"Do you mind if I stay here with you for a while?"

James nods enthusiastically and climbs into Nate's lap. Walt simply stares at him for a while but then hands him the book.

"What does it say?" He asks.

Nate takes the book and starts reading.

The phone rings downstairs but Nate leaves it to Brad.

***

When he returns to the living room, Brad is back working on his radio device.

"Still not working?" Nate asks, falling onto the couch.

"No way. Dead like a dead Haji."

"Listen Brad, about what happened-"

"Us fighting?" Brad finishes for him, his mouth twisted in a half smirk. "We should do it more often. Don't you feel better? I do."

"Better, yeah." Nate stretches on the couch, feeling numb and tired, and a bit sore.

"How're the kids doing?" Brad asks casually without turning eyes away from his task. Nate smiles, even if Brad can't see him.

"Fine. I think we need more books on animals. And maybe some DVD's also. Walt wanted me to read the animals' book."

"Really? Did he ask you to read?" the surprise in Brad's voice and eyes is genuine.

"Yes."

Brad smiles, proudly.

"Who was on the phone before?" Nate asks.

Brad's smile turns into a grin.

"It was Gabe's Mom."

"Oh, the infamous Gabe's Mom. And speaking of Gabe's Mom... Where's Ray?"

"Ray's staying at Gabe's house tonight. Gabe's Mom called to ask if it was okay. I said yes, as long as Ray gets his homework done. She said she would take care of it personally."

Nate whistles. "I'm impressed. And, has this 'Gabe's Mom' got a name?"

"Yep, her name is Jenny Espera and she also said that she and her husband Tony would like to meet me and Mrs. Colbert since our kids get along so well. Maybe next Friday, for a drink?"

"Oh Jesus Christ, and what did you say?"

"The truth. That Mrs. Colbert rests in peace somewhere in Pasadena but my partner, Nate, and I will be more than happy to meet her and Mr. Espera for a drink."

The serious look on Brad face is priceless.

"And what did _she_ say? How did she react?"

"She didn't flinch. She asked if five pm was okay for us and I told her it'd be perfect."

"Brad, you know Ray's gonna hate us forever?"

"I didn't ask him to socialize with people whose parents are probably liberal pot-smokers who need to stick their fucking noses into their kids' friends' families just to criticize their way of life or what they eat or who they vote for. I'm just being honest, Nate. There is no Mrs. Colbert but there is a Mr. Fick and I like him very much. I'm not going to lie because Ray is ashamed of us. I'm not asking him to like what I am, but he needs to respect it and I'm not going to hide, that's for sure. He has to learn."

"You're teaching him the hardest way."

"You told me I have to be their leader. Mind a beer?"

Nate nods. Brad has a point. Besides, it's not like Ray is going to stay with them forever.


	3. Part III

They're enjoying a quiet lunch or, at least, Walt and Nate are having lunch while Brad tries to avoid the food James partly eats and partly throws at him, when the door bangs dangerously and Ray makes his sensational entrance.

"Ray, you break the door, you pay for it." Nate says, catching a flying cracker.

"Please, please, please! Let me tell them you've just been diagnosed with Ebola and you're under quarantine. And that I'm available for adoption."

"What's your problem?" Brad asks.

"The Great Meeting of Doom with Gabe's parents. D'you know Gabe's father is a Mexican AND a Marine? If you invite them and they see I'm living with a couple of homosexual Marines, one of which is accidentally my father, I'm fucked. Do you realize I'll have to leave school and hide in some crack-smoking, dog-fucking communist shithole and sing Hare Krishna songs all the time?"

"Language, Ray. Is Gabe's father a Marine as well, really? Too late anyway, I'm sorry. I already informed Mrs. Espera about our situation. I thought it was only considerate." Brad informs him.

Ray's face collapses in a way that's meant to be dramatic but turns out completely funny. Nate has to fight a chuckle and concentrates on taking the spoon from Brad and feeding James his rice and chicken.

"You're going to ruin my social life with this crap, you know that? Nobody will want to come over here and I'll end up being an outcast and I'll have to go to a damn shrink. Do you have any idea how much a shrink costs nowadays?"

"Ray, I'm telling you," Nate's expression is totally serious, "girls totally go crazy over gay men."

"You gotta be kidding me."

"Trust me. Tell a couple of chicks you're living with your gay Dad and his boyfriend, and that they're also very handsome, you'll have them here in less then zero. You have my word on this." Nate nods to enforce the statement.

"Brad?" Ray questions his father.

Brad, who is still holding his fork halfway to his mouth, looks carefully from Ray to Nate.

"I have no idea how girls react to gay men. But if Nate says they love homosexuals, then it is the truth. Be assured of this."

Ray still looks unconvinced. "Ok," he says after few moments, "I'll try it with Samantha Smith. But I warn you, if it doesn't work, I'm holding you two responsible for having permanently damaged my social life."

As soon as he's out of sight, Nate hides his face in his hands and tries to stifle a burst of convulsive laughter. When he finally recovers, Brad is staring at him, mouth hanging open.

"What?" Nate asks, still chucking.

"You're a fucking genius you know that?"

"Yeah, I know."

"I could kiss you right now if we weren't, you know..."

"Mh. I don't think James cares, and I'm sure we can bribe Walt with more ice cream. Walt, do you mind if your Dad kisses me?"

Walt serves himself a spoonful of ice cream and shakes his head vigorously.

"See?"

"Smart kid."

***

On the day of the dreaded meeting with the Esperas, Nate tries to concentrate on his research for the Leadership and Organizational Behavior course and not to think about what's going to happen in a few hours.

When his fingers begin to cramp and his eyes hurt, he looks at his watch and realizes it's almost 4 PM. He's been working for three hours. Three hours during which the house has been dead quiet. He wonders if Brad hasn't drugged the kids or something equally drastic.

He saves the file he's working on and checks for them. Ray is sprawled on the bed, headphones on, and arms covering his eyes. Nate feels almost sympathetic. Walt is carefully coloring in a book Nate had brought him, tongue stuck out at the corner of his mouth in deep concentration. James is playing with Nate's old GI Joes.

Nate is suddenly overwhelmed with the need to keep them all safe, forever. He immediately pushes the need away.

He closes the door slowly and is halfway down the corridor when he hears a thump coming from above; the door to the attic is open.

"Brad?" He asks, peeking through the trapdoor.

"Here."

Brad is standing in front a huge rubber cover with 'U.S. Marines' stamped over it. Nate recognizes it as one of the small camp tents they used at Mathilda.

"What're you gonna do with it?" He asks, puzzled.

Brad twists his mouth in an evil grin.

"I'm planning strategies."

"Oh. What strategies?"

"Wait and see. Oh, and the Margaritas are ready, beer is in the refrigerator and appetizers only need to be heated up."

Nate wants to kiss him but he knows where that would lead. "Very good," he says instead, "let's lead this mission to a glorious end."

At a quarter to five, Nate's feelings are edging slightly toward panic. This is not something he's been trained to handle. He looks back on his own childhood memories, searching for cocktail parties with his parents and the parents of his friends but he comes up blank.

At five o'clock, when the doorbell rings, Nate's anxiety has turned into nausea. Brad suggested Nate greet their guests while he waits for them in the backyard, trying to keep James from eating all the appetizers or Ray from poisoning the Margaritas. Nate has an attractive, well-mannered attitude that people usually like at first sight and it seemed like a good idea in the beginning. Right now, he's not so sure anymore.

"C'mon, man," he encourages himself, "you've been through so much worse."

***

Jenny Espera is a lovely lady with intense brown eyes and chestnut hair tied up in a ponytail. Her husband, Antonio, is bulky and tall with dark skin and an open but mildly hostile countenance. They have two kids with them. A young boy, about Ray's age, with a pair of thick glasses, who Nate assumes must be Gabe. The other child, who can't be more than two years old, is blond and fair skinned, which is rather weird considering that both of the Esperas are obviously of Hispanic descent.

Nate can't help but look at the younger kid while they make the ritual introductions.

"He's adopted," Mr. Espera informs him defiantly. "And, before you wonder, yes, even we Latinos adopt kids."

"Tony! Do not even start that." Jenny Espera pokes her husband hard in the arm and the look she turns on him could melt steel.

"You'll have to excuse him; my husband suffers from a bad case of persecution paranoia."

"Actually, I think it's wonderful that there are people who adopt kids without questioning their ethnicity," Nate offers but he makes a mental note to tell Brad to never, for any reason, mention the fact that they are going to give Brad's children up for adoption. "I was just wondering about his age, Mr. Espera."

Ok, that's a bit of a lie but intentions are good.

"What's your name, little guy?" He asks, ruffling the baby's hair and intentionally ignoring Mr. Espera's suspicious look.

"His name's Jason," Jenny answers politely. "And don't be fooled by his shyness, he's just ... taking in the new surroundings. Just wait until he gets comfortable."

In the backyard Brad is running on the grass, carrying a very happy James on his shoulders and mimicking an airplane while James pretend-fires at their maple trees with his thumb and forefinger.

A lovely, almost moving picture if Nate wasn't sure there's a hidden agenda underneath. And it becomes clear when they stand in front of each other for introductions: Brad towers over Antonio Espera by several inches and James, who is still firmly seated on Brad's shoulders, emphasizes the difference even further. The way Mr. Espera and Brad look at each other makes Nate think of two alpha dogs squaring off to fight for dominance. He has to fight the urge to reprimand them both.

"Where's Ray?" Gabe's voice breaks the tension and Nate throws Brad a silent warning.

"He's still upstairs, pestering his brother," Brad answers. "He doesn't feel very sociable today."

"Oh really? How about we go and fetch them, hmm, Gabe?" Mrs. Espera suggests.

Nate already likes that woman very much. "Up the stairs, first door on the left."

Now it's just the three of them, plus James who stares intently at their guest. Nate believes strongly in good timing so he doesn't waste a second.

"Mr. Espera, I guess your wife informed you of our non ... traditional status. We're men; we both served in the Corps, Recon to be specific, and Sergeant Colbert here is still on active duty. We live together as a couple, something that is legally accepted in this state. And, since 1993, as you may know, same-sex couples have also been granted the legal right to adopt their partners' biological children. This said, if you have any problem with us, please, you should get it out in the open now, or never bring it up at all."

Espera's jaw tightens and his nostrils flare. Nate is also sure his fists are clenched but he doesn't intend to break eye contact just to check.

"Ok. Just to be totally straightforward about it, man, let me tell you that I don't understand, and I never will, this homosexual thing. But I was there, I saw how things go. Sometimes it's just stress relief, sometimes it's something more. War can screw you up, dawg; you don't need me to tell you that. And when you come back home? You don't know what you're going to find. You don't know how to relate to people in normal ways anymore. You can't go 'round talking about the folks you killed because people will look at you like you're a nutcase. But when you're with your men, it's different. They're your brothers, they understand you. Sometimes they're the only family you have. Right?"

Brad and Nate exchange a look.

"I'm not sure what you're implying, Mr. Espera." Brad says carefully.

"I'm implying that, unless you put your hands on each other when my kids are around and you still honor the Corps, I don't give a rat's ass about you being or not being queer."

"This, sir," Brad says softly after a moment of tense silence, "is depriving me of the opportunity to bitch about discrimination now."

Nate is staring daggers at Brad but Antonio Espera's face opens in a huge, contagious smile and all the tension melts away.

"You can call me Tony, by the way."

Nate nods. "Very well," he says. "Beer anyone?"

They are on their second round of Budweiser when Mrs. Espera joins them; Walt walks beside her, smiling and carrying his plastic tank while Ray and Gabe have armfuls of toys and are planning to make camp on the back lawn.

The smile Jenny Espera has for her husband is so sweet and proud that Nate can't help smiling himself.  
Brad offers her a glass of frozen Margarita that she accepts gladly; then he stands up and joins the kids.

"I heard you're planning to set up camp out there."

"Yes, sir," Gabe answers straightening his back.

"Very well. I have something you may need." Brad points to plastic bundle in the far corner of the yard. "This, gentlemen, is the camp tent I used while on missions in Afghanistan. You can't make a camp if you don't have a tent."

Ray's face is priceless.

"Will you really let us use that, Dad?" He asks. "This is pretty awesome!"

Nate doesn't miss the fact that, for the first time, Ray doesn't call his father by his first name and this makes him feel oddly warm inside.

"Sure, but first we need to set it up. C'mon, everybody, we have some work to do."

Ten minutes later, they're all working together, even James and Jenny. And Nate, suddenly, understands what Brad meant about "planning strategies": nothing enforces boundaries more than a team job.

***

That night Nate can't sleep so he decides to investigate the attic. There's still a lot of shit from the former owner, some boxes that might belong to Brad and a pair of helmets that surely do belong to Brad.

Nate had put some of his things in a corner and forgotten about them: mostly books, some military and technical ones, some fictional, a few from college. There's one he didn't remember he'd packed, but it makes him smile: an ancient illustrated edition of Aesop's Fables. He loved that book when he was a toddler for the beautiful and colored drawings and had loved it when he was older, for its wise and moral tales. And he had been pleasantly surprised when he found out that Aesop was one of the main authors discussed in the Greek literature course at Dartmouth.

He thinks Walt might like it as well.

He also thinks they won a small but significant victory that afternoon, the first in two months. He has never seen Brad and the kids interact so well. And he's also sure Walt has been more talkative and outgoing than usual. But Nate is a practical man and he tries not to get his hopes up too much.

"Had a bad dream?"

Nate jumps. His situational awareness has definitely suffered.

Brad stands in the middle of the attic, eyes sleepy and arms stretched over his head, clutching a low wooden beam. He also looks very sexy with his black boxer brief hanging low on his hips.

"No, I'm just not used to peace and quiet anymore." Nate jokes.

"Should I wake the children of the damned up for you, _sir_?"

"Don't you dare!"

Nate is sitting on the windowsill and Brad kneels in front of him.

"I think it went pretty well today," Brad says. "The Esperas are good people, if you forget Tony's tendency to mark territory like a suspicious tomcat."

"Takes one to know one ... Yeah, I agree. About the success of the meeting, I mean. Jenny offered to look after the kids for us if we need a break or if we're busy. She's a teacher, you know? She said that Ray and Gabe are great friends, and that Gabe didn't take Jason's adoption very well and was very cranky and difficult before he and Ray met."

"And speaking of which," Brad interrupts. "May I ask you what all the talk about same sex couples adopting babies was about?"

Nate frowns and needs a while to understand what Brad's talking about. "Oh, that! Nothing, I was just trying to make a point with Tony. He was being smug."

"Ok. Good. For a moment I thought you were hinting ... You know we can't. I mean..."

"I know," Nate interrupts him. "I know."

"Good."

They stay silent for a while, thinking. Brad has dark shadows under his eyes and an almost constant frown.  
Nate knows how much this situation, in spite of all the Iceman shit, is worrying him. He caresses Brad's face.

"Hey" he says.

"Hey."

He bends forward and kisses Brad on the corner of the mouth. "Are the monsters sleeping?" He whispers.

"Like the dead."

They've forgotten what kissing like this is like, ravaging and sensual at the same time. Nate holds Brad's head in his hands, dragging him closer. They don't even try to be quiet. It's a wet, noisy, full-mouthed kiss; the kind that goes straight to their cocks. Brad pulls Nate onto his lap, grasping his ass, rocking slowly, and Nate thrusts back, pushing his hips forward. They hump like two horny teenagers. He slips one hand between them and strokes Brad through his briefs. Nate feels him growing hard into his hand and moves it faster.

Than Brad suddenly draws back and cups his dick.

"Wait! Jesus Christ."

"What the fuck?" Nate protests. He's so turned on he's can feel precome leaking out along his cock.

"Fuck, Nate. I was almost there" Brad pants, "want to take it slow this time, ok?"

"What-"

"Let me. Please."

Brad's eyes are drugged-dark, the blue almost eaten up by the black of the pupil. He is hungry, tired, and horny.

"Ok," Nate simply says.

Brad pushes Nate back on the windowsill, strips him of his sleeping pants and runs the tips of his fingers from Nate's groin to his knees, pushing them apart until Nate's legs are wide open and his cock leans hard and heavy and wet against his belly. He feels exposed and Brad knows it so he doesn't stop looking at him; his eyes linger between Nate's thighs. Brad wets his lips and then rests his head on Nate's thigh, eyes closed and a contented smile that makes him look like a big cat; he's humming something and his breath comes out in small puffs that tickle Nate's balls and make his dick pulsate painfully. Brad's cock is huge, outlined by the dark briefs and Brad's thumb lazily strokes the head; there's a darker, wet spot where Brad's finger is touching. Nate knows how it feels, the roughness of wet cotton against oversensitive skin. There's a rush of blood and the muscles in his belly spasm. He shuts his eyes.

"Do something, Brad," his voice shakes a bit but the command is still there because Brad starts kissing Nate's inner thigh, lightly sucking the skin, flicking his tongue along the line where leg meets groin. Nate arches his back and keeps rocking his hips into nothing, fooling himself that this will soothe the throbbing in his cock. Little spurts of pearly precome leak out from the slit. He grasps Brad's hair and jerks his head back. Brad's grinning, pupils wide, and lips very red. Nate guides him until Brad's mouth is brushing his cock. Brad skims his lips, almost pensively, over the tip and when he lifts his head and licks them, they are glossy and smeared with precome. Nate stops trying to control his breathing.

"Fuck..."

"Maybe later… this first ..."

Brad sucks him slowly. Deep, long sucking, following the natural thrusting of Nate's hips, while his fingers tease Nate's opening. Not pushing or probing, just circling until Nate's can't hold back anymore and his orgasm explodes, white lights flashing behind his eyelids and his whole body spasms. His moans seem almost distant, alien. Brad brings him back to reality with a filthy kiss soaked with saliva and come.

"Come here," Nate says, still panting. Brad stands up in front of him and lowers his drenched briefs enough to free his cock. He fucks Nate's mouth and Nate looks up at him the whole time, holding Brad's ass, his fingers digging into flesh where, he is sure, there will be bruises tomorrow. When Brad comes, he jerks his head back and grasps Nate's shoulders.

"I've got you," Nate whispers against his belly, when finally he lets go of Brad's cock.

***

"Want to go back to bed?" Brad's voice sounds rough and sleepy.

It's almost dawn and they're still in the attic, resting on an old, smelly bedroll. Brad is half sprawled over Nate's body, their legs entwined and his arm possessively hooked over Nate's chest.

Nate shakes his head. "No." He feels exhausted but they haven't been so relaxed, so intimate and perfectly at ease with each other in a long time. There's also an important issue he feels he has to discuss with Brad.

"I think you should spend more time with Walt," he says casually, stroking Brad's forearm.

"What do you mean?"

Brad is just playing for time and Nate knows it.

"You're making progress with James. And today you've officially become Ray's hero, even if he'll never admit it. But you're still basically ignoring Walt, and he sees it."

Brad tenses for a moment before the Iceman's mask slips back in place. "I'm doing my best," he says coldly. "They're so different."

"Then you have to try harder, you have to think of them all on the same level and not focus only on the ones who make it easier for you," Nate can't avoid the hardness in his voice and holds Brad's stare. In the end, Brad is the one lowering his eyes.

"Last time I saw him I fucked up pretty bad."

It's the first time Brad talks spontaneously about his past; Nate isn't sure how to handle this.

"What happened?" He simply asks in the end.

"The day before I left for Afghanistan he found my Beretta. It was locked away, hidden, but he found it. He's a pretty smart kid," Brad smiles. "I was outside doing some shit to my bike and I could hear him running around inside shouting 'bang bang'. Then I heard a shot. A real one. A loud, deafening bang. I ran inside and Walt was standing, paralyzed, still holding the gun and James was crying. There was a big hole in the wall not very far from James' crib. I had forgotten to put the safety on when I locked the gun away. I went nuts at Walt. I had forgotten to lock the gun and I was shouting at Walt. Sheila had a fit and started shouting and hitting me. There was so much noise. But I felt strangely detached, like I was just an onlooker. I left the next day. And I felt so relieved. I think Sheila packed up the kids and her shit that day and went to some fucking pot-smoking commune. She divorced me, and then I was told that Sheila's parents wanted full custody of the kids. Then Sheila shot some bad shit into her veins once too often and her parents decided that they didn't want the kids after all. I didn't even know Sheila was a junkie. Can you believe that? We were married for something like eight years and I didn't even know she was a junkie." Brad's laugh is sour.

"How did you two end up married?" Nate asks, not really sure he wants to know.

Brad snorts. "We were young, rebellious and stupid. I think we really just wanted to piss off our liberal, upper-class Jewish families."

"You could have just stolen a car."

"Yeah."

Brad looks at Nate, waiting, but Nate keeps silent.

"Shouldn't this be the moment you tell me that it wasn't my fault if she decided to fuck up her life while I was doing my duty in the glorious name of United States of America?" Brad attempts a half smile but Nate doesn't smile back.

"You're right. You fucked up pretty bad, and not just with Walt. You have to unfuck things now that you have the chance."

"How the fuck do I do that?"

Nate shakes his head. "I don't know. James adores you and Ray, underneath the hostility, I believe he understands more than you might imagine. And today you also hit a strategic score in winning his trust. You have to find a way to bond with Walt."

"What for?" There's an edge of anger in Brad's voice. "They'll probably be out of here before the end of the year. What's the point of bonding with them if I'm going to abandon them again?"

"Abandon?" Nate doesn't hide his surprise, "I thought you wanted to keep seeing them. The fact that you want to find a better arrangement, with a family that can take care of them properly, doesn't mean that you have to completely forsake them. They're still your sons."

"I know." Brad's voice shakes a bit.

Nate stretches his arm out and picks the book of Aesop's Fables.

"Here. Give it to Walt and read it with him. He'll love it. And keep talking to him, even if he doesn't answer you back. "


	4. Part IV

Nate wants to give Brad and Walt more time together so, when he's not too busy studying or working, he takes James to the park: there, he can study or read while keeping an eye on him.

Or, at least, that was the plan. After a week, he's ready to murder every single mom, babysitter or nanny who dares to offer him more unsolicited advice.

"Have fun?" Brad asks from the kitchen as soon as Nate and James step inside.

"Fun? I don't know. I've spent most of the time trying to discourage women who think a single man with a child absolutely needs their help and when I got distracted for like three seconds, James disappeared. It took me two whole fucking minutes and a mild panic attack to find him. So, if this is your definition of fun, yes, I had a lot fun."

"And where- HOLY SHIT! What happened to him?" Brad appears from the kitchen with Walt and Ray in tow.

"Did he wrestle naked in shit?" Ray asks, disgusted.

"Wa- No! Jesus Christ Ray! It's not shit, it's mud. And you," Nate says aiming an accusing finger at Brad, "you better stop laughing because now you bathe him and then clean the car."

"It's a perfect job of camouflage, though." Brad studies James with something that's close to admiration. "What were you doing, son? Looking for relics?"

"Yes James, tell your father what you were doing."

"Digging a trench," James says proudly.

"Oh." Brad's smile is so wide that Nate can't help smiling himself. "C'mon young Marine, since you're already a proficient Sniper let me introduce you to the Combat Dive Advanced Course in the tub."

Brad grabs a giggling James and carries him upstairs.

"Let's go, Walt," Ray says shaking his head, "we gotta find some illicit activity to excel at if we wanna score some points with Big Psycho Dad. Or he'll sell us to the Pacifists."

"Is Daddy gonna sell us?" Walt asks, his eyes huge and a bit worried.

"Nobody is gonna sell anybody," Nate interrupts. "C'mon, with me in the kitchen. It's report time. Besides, I'm starving."

***

"So, what did you do today?" Nate asks Walt while they set the table for dinner.

"Dad read a story."

"Really? Which one?"

"The one with the King Arthur."

"Oh. That's a beautiful story. Did you like it?"

Walt nods enthusiastically. "I wanna go to school and then be a warrior. Or a vet."

The passion in Walt's voice surprises Nate pleasantly. And the smug smile on Ray's face says it's not just his impression.

"You'll be a great warrior, or vet, one day, Walt," he says. "I'm sure of this."

"Can I have a horse?"

Nate ruffles his hair. "We'll see," he replies.

He fights the urge to hug Walt. Somehow he thinks it's not the right thing to do. Not with Ray looking at them a bit uncomfortable, in his two sizes too large Metallica t-shirt hanging from his scrawny shoulders.

"And you," he says turning his whole attention on Ray but still keeping a hand on Walt's shoulder, "what d'you wanna do when you grow up?"

Ray shrugs. "Dunno. I wanna marry a rich old lady, inherit all her money and go to the Bahamas and spend the rest of my life surfing, drinking and looking at girls."

Nate whistles. "Well, that sounds like a plan; a bit cynical for somebody so young, though. With your skills, I would see you as a politician, or a lawyer."

"Me?" Ray sounds genuinely surprised. "Naaah. I'd leave it to fat-ass quacks who think they can fool people with words. If I want to have power over the crowd, I'd rather be a rock star. At least I'd have fun, too."

Nate is amused.

"It's a pity, all this rhetorical talent gone wasted. How's school going, by the way?"

There's a tense silence.

"Ray?"

"School sucks," Ray says finally.

"Oh really? What happened?"

"Can you believe? Mr. Sixta gave me a C because my essay was 1300 words instead of 1000."

"Are you sure it's just for that?"

"Sure! Look."

Nate carefully reads the essay Ray hands him. "It's good. Accurate, articulate, well written," he admits.

"Told you so. Sixta is a retard."

"But it doesn't change the fact that he's still your teacher and he's the one dictating rules."

Ray's shoulders slump. "Ok, so now _I_ am stupid because an incompetent, illiterate Nazi rules-fanatic thinks quantity of words is more important than quality of content? Are you serious?"

"Ray, don't talk like that about a teacher."

"Brad said that!"

"Brad... Ok, anyway. Nobody says you're stupid. Actually, I think you're pretty smart. So smart that sometimes you scare me, seriously. But you're not in a position to question your teacher's rules, as wrong as they may be. The only thing you can do is to adapt your skills to them."

Ray bends his head to the side and studies Nate carefully.

"Ok, and how do l I do that?"

"Try to be outstanding in 1000 words rather than 1300."

"And what if it's not enough? He already hates me."

"Then I'll pay him a courtesy visit." Nate winks. "Ok, now go make sure those two haven't drowned in the tub."

Ray is halfway to the stairs when he stops and slaps his forehead.

"Oh, I almost forgot... Brad's parents called today. They said they're going to come to visit. Brad said he wanted to tell you personally but I think he forgot." Ray's evil grin speaks volumes.

Nate's knees go weak. "You gotta be kidding me."

"I'm deadly serious." And with that Ray runs upstairs.

Dinner, as usual, is noisy and messy, with the boys talking all at the same time and Brad teasing them for this or that thing. But Nate is starting to enjoy it, especially in comparison with the silent, awkward meals during the first weeks with the kids. All things considered, now they look more like a normal, if slightly dysfunctional family.  
So, for the moment, he decides not to raise the issue about Brad's parents coming to visit _and_ Brad not telling him.

***

Nate is sitting on the bed, carefully reading through a client request for political advice when Brad finally joins him and collapses on the mattress.

"I was ready for a ransom request," Nate says without lifting his eyes from his laptop.

Brad yawns.

"Little motherfuckers. I had the bad idea to tell them a story about a mission in Iraq and when I was finished they kept asking questions."

"A mission in Iraq?"

"Don't worry, I cut out the gory details."

"How's it going with Walt?"

"We are... warming up. He's a smart kid. He listens to everything, even when he seems not to be listening at all."

"Yeah, I noticed that."

"Sometimes I think he wants to tell me something."

"What do you mean?" Nate closes his laptop.

"He looks at me, as if he's going to tell me something important but instead he just stands like that. He seems... frustrated. It hurts, it makes me feel powerless."

"I know the feeling." Nate lies down beside Brad. "But don't give up, you're doing well. Very well, actually. I see a small improvement each day. He just needs time."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Yes." Nate isn't sure about anything but Brad needs encouragement right now.

He chooses a tactical change of subject. "Ray told me about the C on his English essay."

"That Sixta is an incompetent homophobic asshole. I'd already figured that out when I went to the parent-teacher meeting. Ray did a good job. I'm sure it was a pretext. Maybe his little fucking ego couldn't stand to be outsmarted by a ten year old brat."

There's an angry edge in Brad voice that Nate decides to ignore.

"That's not a good reason to mock his teacher in front of him. He has to learn to follow the rules, even when they make no sense."

Brad sits up and looks at Nate, bewildered.

"Coming from the man who made a point of questioning his C.O.'s orders on a regular basis, that sounds rather hypocritical."

"His time for going against the rules will come sooner than you imagine. You're not helping him like this."

"Like what? Being honest and helping his self esteem?"

"Ray's self-esteem doesn't need any help, trust me."

"His essay is very good. No, let's be honest, it's brilliant."

"Don't let your judgment be affected by your feelings. I know it's brilliant, I know he is brilliant, but you shouldn't encourage him to go against his teacher, even if he is an incompetent asshole. It won't do Ray any good."

Brad shakes his head. "What should I do then? Tell him to conform to mediocrity?"

"No, just teach him to do his best in spite of the shitty situation he's in. You should be a master in this area."

Brad snorts. "C'mon, he's ten!"

"Even more reason. The sooner the better."

"Hail to the ultimate downfall of the American educational system at the hands of incompetent fanatic bootlickers." But the rage is gone and he lies back beside Nate.

"I can't believe it," Brad says after a while.

"Believe what?"

"We should be having sex now; instead we're still talking about them. We're becoming obsessed with children."

"They're not very easy to ignore. Let's talk about something else, then."

Brad rolls onto his side and stretches like a big cat.

"Ok, about what?" His voice is slow and slutty and he runs his fingers over Nate's chest.

"Let me see... Maybe about your parents coming over?"

"Shit! I'm going to kill Ray."

"Were you even going to tell me?"

Brad hides his face in the crook of Nate's neck. "I was waiting for the right moment."

Nate snorts. "And when is the right moment? When they show up on our doorstep with a cargo of overly expensive toys?"

"No, actually after we had fucked like rabbits. This improves your mood a lot, usually."

"You have to work hard this time."


	5. Part V

_"It's a daammmn cooold night  
Tryin' to figure oooout this life"_

Nate sighs and looks discouraged at his laptop. Ten lines in an hour. It's a record. A very bad one.  
He can see Brad in the backyard working on his Yahama, totally unaware of Ray shouting over Avril Lavigne's base.

_"Won't you take me by the hand,  
Take me somewhere new,  
I don't know who you are but I  
I'm with youuuuu"_

Brad starts hammering on some metal bit and Hopper, their neighbors' rat dog, begins to bark totally out of tune.

"Brad, I'm not questioning your parenting skills but... Couldn't you have bought Ray a box of Legos, like Walt and James? I mean, look at them, I've never seen them so quiet and engaged in something."

Brad wipes some grease away from his chin and looks at Nate, screening his eyes from the sun.

"Legos? He's ten. We're lucky he didn't ask me for porn."

"Ok. Books, movies. Whatever."

"He asked for a Karaoke machine."

"And since when do you listen to him?"

"He seems happy. And he hasn't complained about anything for two hours, which is a record."

"Right, you have a point. But I can't concentrate with him screaming like there's no tomorrow, you punishing your bike and that pathetic dog yapping like he's being fucked by a bear. I need to finish an article and if I don't hand this paperwork over to Schwetje next week, there's no chance I can make it through the final exam in Ferrando's course. And you know I can't allow that, it would fuck my whole semester."

"Schwetje is an incompetent idiot. Explain to me why Professor Ferrando still keeps him around? Shouldn't Teaching Assistants be skilled, since they're _teaching_ students? And since when do those cultivated intellectual snobbish motherfuckers at Harvard let a specimen of an ape's underdeveloped progeny warm their valuable art deco chairs?"

"He has friends in high places. And I mean very high."

"In other words, unless he sodomizes the virgin ass of the Dean's teenage daughter and posts the video on Youtube, the chances of him being kicked out are close to zero?"

"Precisely. The problem is that Dean Mattis doesn't have a teenage daughter."

"Mh." Brad scratches his chin, pensively. "My cousin Annabel is sixteen, but I doubt her ass is still virgin. So I fear you have to finish your paper."

Nate laughs. "I'll be happy to pass this course and get it over with."

"Why don't you go to the Library?"

Nate frowns. "And leave you alone with them? I mean, all three of them?"

Brad shrugs. "Why not? They seem pretty focused on their new toys right now. I'm sure I can handle them for a few hours. Beside, I think I owe it to you after last night."

"Are you in pain?"

Brad twists his mouth in a half grin. "A little bit, but it's the good kind of pain."

"So next time, remember to tell me about your parents coming over. Ok then, thank you. Text me if things get out of hand."

"Don't worry. I can always make them dig in."

"Mh. It's not a bad idea."

***

In less then four hours, Nate finishes his articles and writes ten crucial pages for his research.

The religious silence of the Library, barely disturbed by the low buzzing of laptops and florescent lights, is almost deafening. It reminds him of the first months after he came back from Iraq: he couldn't stand the silence; he had to put headphones on and Iron Maiden at a crazy level to be able to fall asleep and stop the panic attacks. He's surprised how easily he's getting used to the constant noise produced by three kids.

His eyes hurt and his fingers are cramped so he decides to take a break and a walk in the garden. Instead he finds himself picking out books for Walt and Ray.

He calls Brad, but everything seems under control: they ate pizza, James is napping, he and Walt are going to watch 'Pocahontas' and Ray's waiting for some friends for a secret meeting in the tent, which is now their general headquarters.

"Ray's inviting friends over?" Nate asks, puzzled.

"Yep."

"I thought he didn't want his friends to know his father lives with a man."

"Not after he found out he's not the only one with same sex parents. Ramona has two mothers and Evan's father lives with his partner, a national target-shooting champion, nothing less."

"Who the fuck are all these people? Who is Evan's father?"

"Ramona is Ray's new crush and Evan's father is Rudy. Do you remember that big fruity guy who runs the Body &amp; Soul fitness club in downtown? He never fooled me; I told you he was a sissy."

Nate feels slightly left out by the fact that nobody informed him about these things, but he tries to be reasonable. After all, Brad spends much more time with the kids and, besides, Brad is their father, not Nate. And again, he shouldn't care so damn much.

"Well, good, have fun. I'll be here for a couple of hours or so."

"Ok. Oh, they called us finally," Brad says.

"They... who? Your parents?"

"The Agency, for the adoption. They say there's a family that fits all the requisites and they want us to have a preliminary meeting with them."

"Oh... When?"

"On Friday, at four p.m. Is that okay for you?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Good."

Friday is going to be busy: he has to deliver his research to Schwetje, try to talk to Ferrando about the final exam and then go to the appointment with the Agency. Nate is not in the mood to return to the silence of the Library. Instead he calls Mike Wynn and asks him out for a coffee.

"So, how're things going?" Mike asks while sitting in front of a mug of freshly made coffee.

"Fine, yeah, fine. The boys are doing fine, you know? Ray's smart. He's doing well at school and, you might not believe it but he's even starting to listen to us. Well, to Brad at least. Not always, but he's less... argumentative. It's a good thing, I suppose."

"Very good, actually. And what about James?"

"James is weird. He has a very strong personality, but you couldn't tell by his docile attitude. He doesn't seem scared by anything, or anybody... Sometimes he's freaky. The way he looks at you... A few days ago, at the park, a couple of older kids tried to bully him; they stole one of his G.I. Joe figures and dared him to take it back. I was almost intervening but it wasn't necessary. He took his toy back, without even flinching, and stared at them, defiantly. In the end, they left him alone." Nate smiles. "Is it normal? For such a young kid, I mean?"

Mike laughs openly. "Yeah! That's good for him! Does he listen to you and Brad?"

Nate thinks for a while than shrugs. "Yes, he tends to be a bit anal about a few things, like sleeping with the plastic rifle Brad bought him, but I must say he's pretty obedient."

"This means he's smart enough to understand where true authority lies. And Walt?"

"Walt is starting to open up; he's more talkative, more interested and active in what we do. You don't look surprised."

"I'm not. I knew from the moment we met that both you and Brad would be good for them. You're starting to see the results now. Beware, I'm not telling you this is going to be easy, or that things'll never fuck up again. They will. You can bet your goddamned balls on it. But you're giving them rules, and balance, and this is starting to pay off. "

Nate scratches his chin, a little embarrassed.

"I hope that the new family won't spoil the progress we've made so far."

Mike raises an eyebrow. "Are you still going through with the adoption idea?"

"Yeah. Of course. It's better this way."

"Better? For whom?"

"For them. We can't keep them. It's out of the question. They need a real family, people who can give them attention twenty-four-seven. We can't, you know. It'd be complicated. Brad's going back to Camp Pendleton in January; he's going to become an instructor. I have studies, a job; more than one, actually..."

"Sure. I understand."

But the look Mike gives him says the opposite.

***

On his way back home, Nate stops at the supermarket and buys several cans of those Chef Boyardee Beefaroni Brad and the kids seem to like a lot. When he arrives at home, they're all in the yard.  
Brad's still working on his bike and Walt and Ray are apparently helping him; James is playing with a perfect reproduction of an M-4. Nate pauses, unseen, to look fondly at the picture they make.

"James, co' mere, put this sweater on, it's getting cold." Brad orders.

"I'm not cold."

"Yes, you are. Ray, put it on him. Walt, pass me that small wrench."

"This one, Dad?"

"Yes, that one, thank you."

Walt delivers the wrench to Brad and then kneels beside him, studying Brad's every move. Ray helps James put on the sweater and then returns to Brad's side and resumes his task of carefully cleaning some metal components that already shine like new. He's wearing an old pair of Brad's camo pants, all crumpled around the ankles, and a black sweatshirt. He's so focused on what he's doing that there's a deep frown on his brow.

Nate is fascinated by that picture. It reminds him of something, but he's not sure what. It doesn't have to do with memories. It's something deeper, more intimate, that he can't focus on but that gives him pleasant warmth.  
James spots him at that moment and runs to him, happily showing him his toy.

"Nate, look!"

Nate kneels in front of him, takes the plastic M-4 from James' hands and studies it.

"That's very beautiful, James."

"Hey, you're back." Brad addresses him. "Did you finish that fucking research?"

Nate scowls at him for swearing but Brad's broad smile prevents him from saying anything.

"Almost. I still have to write a conclusive chapter, go through the whole thing a couple of times and it's over. Hey, Ray, do you know your father never lets anyone touch his bike? You should be honored."

Ray offers him a smug smile. "This shit should be cleaned up more often. You're neglecting this lady, Brad."

"That's maybe because I spend all my free time babysitting three snotty brats who can barely go to the toilet alone."

Hopper decides it's a good moment to start barking again.

James steps back from the fence, holding his rifle and staring intently at their neighbors' house.

"Dad?"

"Yes, James?"

"Can I shoot that dog?"

"No son, we don't shoot dogs. But I'll let you shoot his owner if you behave."

"I hate dogs," James mumbles.

"Oh really, why's that?" Nate asks.

"They scare the shit out of him, I tell you that, man," Ray says, picking up another part to clean. "It's because that bitch had two-"

"Don't call her that!"

In a second, Walt is all over Ray, and starts hitting him, screaming and crying. The reaction is so sudden, so unexpected it takes a while for both Nate and Brad to understand what's going on. Then, Nate stands up but Brad's faster and he disentangles a struggling Walt from Ray and carries him away, holding him in his arms and trying to calm him down.

Ray curls up, sobbing, and James stares at him, more curious than worried. Nate grabs James' hand and joins Ray on the wooden stairs.

"Listen Ray-"

"Fuck you, Nate; I don't have time for this now." He stands up and strides to the tent.

Nate feels completely helpless.

"Why is Ray crying?" James asks him.

Nate heaves a deep breath.

"I don't know, James. Maybe because he didn't want to fight with Walt. Maybe because he's sad, maybe he misses his Mom..." he says the last word carefully, studying James' reaction but James, as usual, seems impervious to these kinds of emotions.

"Mommy is bad," he says after a while. "She beats Ray."

This is not news; Mike had warned them about possible child abuse. Hearing it from the mouth of a three year old child, though, is another thing. It makes Nate feel physically sick.

"Did she hurt you and Walt, too?"

James shakes his head. "She said Ray was bad. She said the dogs were her babies."

This doesn't surprise him either.

"James, would you mind standing watch with your rifle while I talk with Ray for a moment? And if the dog starts barking again, shoot him."

"'kay".

He guides James close to the tent's opening, where he can see him from inside, lifts the lap and peeks inside.

"Go away," Ray says angrily.

"I'm not going away, Ray. We have to talk."

Ray shrugs and pouts. He looks younger than his ten years.

"It wasn't my fault," he says, defensively.

"I didn't say that. I'm just suggesting that you should be more careful in expressing your personal opinions about your mother in front of your brothers. They might not understand."

"But it's true! She always said Brad was a bastard; that he abandoned her. But at least I knew he was out there doing something great, like risking his life and killing bad guys while she spent all the time drunk or wasted. She was such a pathetic bitch!"

Nate is surprised at Ray's heartfelt defense of his father and the intent to scold him vanishes.

"I'm not arguing, but she's dead now. What's the point of saying those kinds of things in front of them? Maybe they didn't realize what she truly was like but it's a good thing after all, don't you think? They trust you; I can see that. You should protect them and not drive them away."

Ray's upper lip quivers but he's a tough kid and his voice doesn't waiver when he speaks.

"I wanted to shake him."

"Who, Walt?"

Ray nods. "Have you seen him? He wasn't like this before; he looks like a retard now. She did that to him!"

"Well..." Nate doesn't know what to say. Maybe Ray is right, maybe Walt needed a jolt to wake up from his torpor. He's not a fucking psychologist. "Just next time remember that they're just kids, ok?"

Rays looks at him.

"Are you going to punish me?"

"Punish you?" Nate smiles. "No, of course not. But we need a new rule in this house: from now on, we all will try to be more careful in what we say and _how_ we say it, ok? We need to maintain a behavioral standard."

Ray's eyebrows peak in the middle as he gives Nate a funny look.

"Man, you totally talk like Potato Head."

"Who's Potato Head?"

"Sixta. He's so fixated on rules and standards that I suspect he has them tattooed on his ass."

"Ray, remember what we said about teachers and swearing."

Ray raises his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I apologize. No more swearing."

"Good boy."

Carefully, Nate moves closer and puts his arm around Ray's shoulders. Ray doesn't move away but offers Nate a condescending smile. It's the first physical contact they have made in three months. Nate stays still, he doesn't want to ruin this moment.

"Can we join you?" Brad peeks into the tent. He's holding a contrite Walt in his arms and has James in tow.

Nate looks at Ray, silently asking for his permission. Ray nods but still refuses to look at his brother.

"You can come in," Nate says.

"Somebody here wants to apologize. Walt?"

Walt's eyes are red rimmed and his hair is tousled, but a lot of his desperation seems somehow dissolved.

"I'm sorry, Ray."

"It's okay." Ray still refuses to look back but Nate suspects it's just an act. "I'm sorry, too."

"Can we eat these now?" James triumphantly shows them two cans of Chef Boyardee Beefaroni.

"Beefaroni? Gimme one." Ray tries to catch one but James is faster and runs away. A moment later, Ray's following him and Walt disentangles from his father's arms and runs behind them. They all start squealing and laughing in the attempt to grab Beefaroni cans from James.

"Little motherfuckers," Brad says. "One moment it looks like we're on the verge of World War III and soon after they act like silly kids."

"They are kids," Nate offers.

"Yeah. Little sons-of-bitches." But there's a gleam in Brad's eyes and Nate doesn't miss it. "Where's the camp stove?"

"In the garage, I believe, why?"

The corner of Brad's mouth lifts in what is his Iceman trademark grin.

"Ok, Gents, now we're gonna have a true Marine chow.

***

They warm up Beefaroni and eat it in the tent while Brad tells them stories of chilly nights in the desert and how Marines used to warm up and Nate hopes he doesn't go into too much detail.

"Ok, it' getting cold, we'd better go inside. Pajamas and teeth brushed in ten." Nate says when he sees Walt suppressing a yawn.

"But, Nate-" Ray tries to protest.

"Do not 'Nate' me. We need to have a couple of rules from now on."

They all stare at him, appalled.

"Rule number one, from today, no more swearing."

Brad's eyes widen and he throws Nate a quizzical glance but Nate ignores him.

"Rule number two. No more sleeping with plastic rifles or comics or whatever. Rule number three..."

***

"I knew this was going to happen."

"What?" Brad asks, kissing his shoulder.

Nate can't sleep, Brad is spooning him and he's not surprised he's awake too.

"Some sort of crisis. Like today."

"Yeah. I didn't know what to do, or to say."

"Whatever you did or said worked, though. Walt recovered pretty quickly and look at the magic of Beefaroni."

"I think I was just lucky. Walt needed a trigger and Ray unintentionally provided it. I just lulled him and shushed him and then convinced him Ray didn't really mean it, even if I believe he did."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. We're new at this, we have to improvise. We have to make do."

"I'm not being hard, Nate, I'm being realistic: I just can't do this. What if we do more harm than good? What if I turn them into little sociopath weirdos? More than they already are I mean."

"Ok. Then we'd better confirm that meeting with the Agency."

"Yes, I think we'd better."

Nate remains awake, thinking back to Brad's surprised but touched look when he told him about Ray's words of praise for his father, the way Ray had stood up for him against his mother. It was the same look Nate used to see on his own father when he was very proud of him.

He tries to convince himself that they're doing the right thing. For whom, he's not sure.


	6. Part VI

They confirm the meeting with the Agency. After consulting Mike, they also decide to say nothing to the kids, at least until they're sure they've found the right family. After that, they'll follow a "gradual introduction program" which should grant the kids time to get accustomed to the new family and keep the trauma to a minimum.

A sudden change in the weather, with heavy rain and a radical drop in temperature, puts a drastic end to outdoor activities. Nate realizes that five males in a house is simply a no-go. Ray is cranky and constantly bitching, James gets the flu and pukes for two days in a row, Walt is bored and Brad's proverbial Iceman attitude is going to hell.

In addition to the review of his research and the monthly articles, Nate is asked to write the project for a new important client at CNAS. So he tries to study at the Library during the day and work at home at night.

When finally, Friday morning arrives, he's so tired he almost feels sick.

Schwetje keeps him waiting for more than an hour and when he finally shows up, he seems totally oblivious of the reason why Nate and other students are there. The following two hours reach a very high score on Nate's personal chart of 'things that go royally fucking wrong'.

***

"Nate!" Brad yells at him as soon as he opens the door.

"What?" Nate hopes nobody has been sick again or has gone into another crisis.

"Where the fuck were you? We have an appointment in an hour on the other side of the town and your fucking cell is still dead."

"Shit."

"Did you forget to buy new batteries?"

"I... No... Yes, yes! I forgot. It's been a fucking hell of a week in case you hadn't noticed."

"Well then, get a move on and maybe we can get rid of the problem and get back to our lives."

Nate tries to ignore the sarcasm poisoning Brad's voice.

"Where are the kids?"

"At Tony's. Jenny offered to look after them."

"What did you say to them?"

Brad looks at him in exasperation.

"What the fuck does it matter now what I said? They're there and we're late."

They barely talk during the drive to the Agency. Nate's simply not in the mood, his head feels empty and he has to fight to keep his eyes open. Brad is focused on the drive, exceeding speed limits and running red lights the entire way. They enter the Agency at 3:59 and the couple, two young upper-class professionals - a physician and a lawyer - cultivated, polite and very rich, greets them with huge smiles and firm handshakes.

The meeting lasts less then fifteen minutes.

"Can you believe it?" Brad says as soon as they're outside the building. "They wanted to send the kids to Catholic School! With priests and nuns and fucked up perverts who brainwash them into good little Catholic motherfuckers. As if we haven't seen enough of the damage religion can do."

Nate shakes his head. "What's the point in adopting kids if you plan to leave them home with a fucking nanny all day long?"

Nate is surprised by the sudden relief that loosens in his stomach.

"When did you tell Jenny we'd pick them up?"

Brad looks at his watch. "Soon after dinner. She said it was better that the kids eat with them, in case our 'business' took longer. Why?"

Nate throws Brad a meaningful look. Brad steps on the accelerator with a predatory smile on his face.

***

They have sex on the carpet in the living room, just because they can. The carpet is old and rough but they don't care. Nate straddles Brad, riding him, slowly, as Brad's hands on his hips compel him to do.

They're close, they've been doing it for so long that Nate has lost the sense of time but he could care less.

"You are so fucking beautiful, Nate. Touch yourself, I wanna see you come all over me."

Brad's hoarse voice is almost enough to make Nate come. He starts stroking his cock. Then Brad lifts him up and pushes him back down, hard. One, two, three times.

"Fuck. I'm-"

Brad arches his back and comes, moaning and cursing loudly. His neck, arms, and chest are glistening with a thin veil of sweat.

Nate can't resist that. He bends over, splashing over Brad's torso in long stripes. He closes his eyes and tries to ignore the buzzing in his ears and the white flashes in front of his eyes. He can hear Brad calling his name but it's very distant and he doesn't feel he can answer right now. Then, everything turns black.

"Welcome back."

Brad is just a blurred shape and Nate closes, and then opens his eyes a couple times until the image is properly focused. He tries to stand up but a surge of nausea and Brad's firm hands put him back in place.

"What the fu-" Even talking seems a mission impossible.

"You passed out."

"Fuck you," Nate manages to say.

"You already did. And then I fucked you. And then you passed out. Are you pregnant?"

Nate snorts. "I've been warned about your arrogance, didn't think it could get that annoying. What happened?"

"Stress. Fatigue. Sleep deprivation. Poor diet. And the fact that I fucked your brains out, of course. You tend to forget you aren't a Recon Marine anymore. You need to leave this shit to us big, well-trained men and keep on with the intellectual mental masturbations you liberals seem so fond of. How do you feel?"

Behind his usual smugness, Brad looks really worried. Nate looks at him and thinks it's impossible to love somebody so much.

"I fucked up."

"Fucked up?" Brad is genuinely surprised.

"With Schwetje. I confronted him, and insulted him, in front of other students."

Brad's whistles. "Worship the Harvard hero. What happened?"

"He 'forgot' today was the delivery deadline for the final exam's admission research. He forgot to tell us Ferrando is going to leave for a three-month conference tour. Therefore, the exam has been moved up. One whole fucking month early."

Brad's eyes widen. "That retarded motherfucker! Did you talk to Ferrando?"

"Ferrando is holding conferences somewhere in the UK and won't be back for a week. Technically, I should have checked for schedule changes. Then again, that's why Teaching Assistants exist, because, considering the shitload of money we pay, we should at least have a properly working and reliable communication system."

"The story repeats itself. The line of power goes inversely to the line of evolution."

Nate attempts a half laugh. "And why do you think everybody calls him Encino Man?"

"What're you going to do?"

Brad gently combs his fingers through Nate's damp hair and Nate feels overwhelmed by that. He has to fight back tears of frustration.

"I'm going to work harder, that's what I'm going to do. But he said he's going to report me to Professor Ferrando and Dean Mattis. I could be kicked out."

"Do you want me and Tony to pay a visit to that son-of-a-bitch?"

Nate realizes Brad is not joking. He shakes his head. "No, I fucked this up, I have to unfuck it."

Brad kisses him on his brow. "I trust you. I'm sure you'll overcome this situation and you'll do it brilliantly."

Brad's watch beeps.

"What time is it?" Nate asks.

"Eight. I'd better go and fetch the progeny."

"There's Jurassic Park on TV tonight, Walt loves that movie. Let's go, if we hurry up we can be back in time."

Nate tries to stand up but Brad pushes him back onto the couch none too gently.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going? You almost collapsed after a little rough sex. You go to bed and when we're back we'll watch the movie together."

***

When Brad and the kids return, an hour later, Nate's working in his new project for CNAS. He's so fully immersed in what he's doing he doesn't even hear them come in.

"Nate!" James jumps on the bed immediately followed by Walt.

"Man, you look like shit! Are you sick?" Ray asks from the door with a mix of disgust and surprise.

"No, I'm not." Nate ignores Brad's glare and turns his attention back to his laptop.

"Dad said we can watch Jurassic Park tonight," Walt informs him.

"Mh-mh."

"Are you coming or what?"

The demanding tone in Walt's voice surprises Nate.

"Do you want me to come?"

"Yes!"

Ray rolls his eyes.

Fuck that, Nate thinks. He closes his laptop.

"Ok, then. Did you enjoy dinner at Gabe's house?"

Walt pulls a disgusted face and James shakes his head with such intensity that Nate thinks it's going to snap.

"Why not?" He asks puzzled.

"They made us eat broccoli and spinach." James makes an utterly sickened face and Nate feels totally sympathetic. He glances at Ray, and Ray shrugs.

"They're obsessed with biologic and macro... macrobio...."

"Macrobiotic." Nate finishes for him.

"Yes, that."

"They never eat Beefaroni!" Walt sounds personally affronted by this.

"Mr. Espera thinks that canned food poisons our system and makes us addicted so we need to buy it like junkies do with drugs and then we feel sick and so we have to buy meds and the pharmaceutical industry grows rich on behalf of poor stupid people that buy canned food because it's cheap. He said it's an international plot made by Food and Pharmaceutical Corporations. Or something like that. Do you think Mr. Espera's a psycho?" Ray's eyebrows peak in the middle the way they always do when he's baffled.

Nate bursts into laugher that makes him suddenly feel better.

"I don't think so, Ray. He's just a little bit paranoid. But we can order pizza if you want."

The enthusiastic and prolonged "yeah" yelled by all the three of them makes Nate realize he's just hit a major score and this makes him feel stupidly happy.

***

Jurassic Park is an entertaining movie and Nate tries to concentrate on the screen and on the kids' funny and smart comments and ignores Brad sidelong glances. The last thing he needs now is Brad fussing over him like a mother hen.


	7. Part VI

The following days pass in a blur. Nate is so focused on the project for CNAS and on studying for the exam he barely registers what's going on around him. But he doesn't miss the way Brad's influence over the kids, and the way they respond to it positively, grows stronger every day.

Brad has set up an organizational chart, turning it into a sort of game, which releases Nate from some responsibilities and involves the kids more directly in domestic chores.

Nate is really touched by the way everybody's trying to cooperate and by Ray's supporting words ("You have retards at Harvard as well? Don't worry; they tend to erase themselves through their own stupidity, sooner or later. Just keep your hopes up.").

They get another call from the Agency informing them of a new family who's seriously interested in a meeting. From the preliminary information the Agency is allowed to provide, this new family is very promising. They arrange the meeting for the following Saturday, when they know Jenny's not working and can look after Walt and James for a couple of hours.

***

Nate's printing a feasibility plan for the CNAS project and trying to memorize some cases studies for the exam when Brad and the kids enter noisily, each of them carrying a shopping bag. Brad also holds an extraordinarily expensive bottle of Barbaresco and sports a blinding smile which raises Nate's level of alertness very high.

"What's that for?" He asks, pointing at the bottle without preamble.

Brad shrugs. "Nothing. I just think you deserve it."

"Brad. Stop it. What's that for?"

"Ok, I'm telling you," Ray offers. "Brad's parents are coming."

If a look could kill, Ray'd be stone dead from the intensity of Brad's glare.

"Thank you very much, Ray. If this is your idea of 'handling with care' then I have to reconsider my opinion of your intelligence."

Ray shrugs. "It needed to come out sooner or later. Better sooner. I'm starving."

If he wasn't so pissed off, both from the news and the fact that Brad and Ray evidently plotted behind his back, Nate would be amused. Instead he crosses his arm and clenches his jaw.

"Hey. I've good news," Ray offers. "I'm on the debate team, can you believe it?"

Nate waivers for a while. This is great news, indeed and deserves his whole attention.

"Very well done," he says instead, without breaking eye contact with Brad.

"Very well done? VERY WELL DONE? I'm telling you I made the fucking debate team, beating something like twenty other students and the only thing you have to say is 'very well done'? Can I least use the play station before dinner?"

"No!" Nate and Brad answer in unison, something they've started to do a lot, lately.

"You know? It's not even fun anymore," Ray says, very disappointed.

"Ray, take your brothers upstairs and get ready for dinner," Brad orders. "_Daddy and Mommy_ need to talk."

"Dear God... Let's go kids. We're too young to lose faith in humanity."

"I want to see Dad and Nate fight," James protests.

"Nope, c'mon. You're too young for this, too."

"When?" Nate asks finally, when he's sure Ray and his brothers are out of earshot.

A brief pause and then Brad lowers his eyes.

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Well, if it makes any difference, I only found out a few hours ago. You know how my mother is. She loves surprises."

Nate feels suddenly very tired.

"This is no good, Brad. We have the meeting with this new couple, then I have to study and you know-"

"How much you're risking. Yeah, Nate, I fucking know the whole story. Even the walls know it. It's just my parents, for Christ's sake! They just want to spend some time with their grandsons."

"And can you promise me they won't start lecturing us again about responsibility? Or deliver liberal speeches about their homosexual friends raising seven children and bullshit like that?" Nate doesn't even try to keep his rage under control.

"No, I can't assure you of this but I'm not going to blame them for that. Especially not when your mother did the same thing when she came to visit. You're the liberal here, you should understand them." Brad says sarcastically.

"Ok. I need to go out. We're being irrational and this's not doing any good."

Nate grabs his printouts and heads for the door.

"Is this your way of facing problems, Nate? You run away? How brave of you. It's probably because you've become a fucking mollified democrat." The scorn in Brad's voice is so strong that Nate feels the urge to hit him. But then his self-control wins and he puts on his coat.

"You know that's not true. Listen, I have to mail out this draft, and then I'll go to the Library to study for a while, so you and the kids can watch TV or whatever."

Brad doesn't answer and Nate grabs his keys and leaves.

***

When somebody pats him gently on the shoulder, Nate realizes he's the only one left in the Library, except for the Librarian, who's giving him an impatient look.

It's almost ten p.m. and it's raining, a thin, chilly rain. But Nate decides to take the long route anyway. He needs fresh air and, most of all, he needs to clear his mind.

He gets at home at quarter to eleven. All the lights are turned off and the house is strangely silent for a Friday night.

He takes a long shower to wash the chill away but it barely helps to loosen the knots in his neck and to warm his bones.

He's not one for indulging in self-contemplation but he studies his image in the mirror. His hair has grown longer and his face has lost the bony, gaunt appearance he had during his Recon times. But he still looks younger than his real age. Maybe even younger than when he was in the Corps.

His teenage looks have often been a problem. At school, at college and later then when he had to give orders to people older and more experienced than himself. But, in the end, he's always proved himself worthy of trust and respect, even if he had to fight hard for it.  
But he never believed in taking the easy road, after all.

He thinks back over the past year with Brad. It hasn't been easy at all. They've argued a lot, over almost every available issue, from politics to the way spaghetti should be cooked. They still argue but it's part of what they are and, frankly, Nate can't think a life without confrontations. Without Brad. He wants challenges in his life, he needs them. And yet, he's not sure why he feels so scared by failure right now.

He finds Brad asleep on the floor of the kids' room; his head rests against the wooden border of James' bed, a book in his lap.

He takes the book away and puts it in the bookshelf and then bends over Brad and kisses him on his brow.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. And he really means it.

***

"C'mon, wake up."

For a moment Nate thinks he's dreaming, but the fact that somebody is shaking him vigorously is the proof that he's not.

Than he remembers, Brad's parents are coming today.

"Fuck," he mumbles, trying to regain full consciousness. He looks at the alarm and his jaw falls in surprise.

"It's... half past nine?"

He sits up in bed and finally realizes what's going on: the house is silent. Totally, utterly silent. Which is impossible because it's Saturday morning, and on Saturday morning Ray always wakes up early - something he never does on school days – because he has 'things' to do with is friends, James jumps in their bed – so they've learned no sex on Saturday morning - and Walt wants pancakes.

And then again, Brad's parents are very much morning persons.

He looks around. "What's going on in there? Where is everybody?"

"At the Franklin Park Zoo."

"I beg your pardon?"

Brad shrugs. "You promised Walt we'd take them there sometime, my parents wanted to do something with the kids. You are unmanageable... So I thought I could send my parents and the kids away for the weekend to socialize and do the kind of shit grandparents do with their grandsons. That way we'd have the full weekend to ourselves."

Nate scratches his head. He feels like a jerk. A selfish bastard. A very happy selfish bastard.

"Well... wow, what can I say? Thank you?"

Brad nods, condescendingly. "That's a start."

"Were the boys happy about this?"

"James and Walt were literally beaming. Ray protested and tried to convince me he was too old for this so I asked him if he was old enough to deal with you and me fucking like rabbits. He stopped protesting."

"Oh God, you didn't really..."

"I did. Really."

"Well, let's make good use of this precious time, then. Come here." Nate pats the bed but Brad shakes his head.

"Maybe later. I have plans for you. First thing breakfast-"

"In bed?" Nate asks hopeful.

"Fuck I serve you breakfast in bed. I already made coffee. Move your ass outta here and come down. C'mon, Nate."

"Ok but, what kind of plans do you have in mind?"

Brad's grin promises nothing good.

"Oh, you'll see."

Brad's plans involve a seven-mile run in the rain, a five-mile swim in the pool and a full hour work out at the gym.

When they finally get home, Nate's legs feel like jelly but he also feels refreshed and more relaxed than he has in a long time. Most of his tension is gone.

After lunch, they spend a leisurely afternoon on the couch. Nate proves his own determination by leaving Brad half-naked and dizzy after a blowjob while he goes back to studying.

They meet the new couple at five pm and, this time, the meeting lasts more than an hour. The Pattersons are great people. Bryan is an environmental engineer and his wife Mary is psychologist. They are open-minded, smart and funny, with strong ideas about child-rising that completely meet with Brad's and Nate's approval.   
They're also not judgmental of Brad's reason for giving the kids up for adoption. But, most important, they don't live very far from Boston and they agree to the 'open family' concept that allows natural parents to keep contact with their kids. They agree to an informal meeting with the kids the following week.

***

That night they celebrate at the Atlantic Fish's.

"That Patterson guy seems tough and unflappable," Brad says while pouring another glass of wine. "Definitely a good match for Ray. And Mrs. Patterson is a sweet lady. I'm sure she's perfect for Walt and James."

"Yeah. She's a psychologist; she can deal with kids I suppose."

"Here's to the Pattersons."

Nate rises his glass, but something in the back of his mind tells him he's not really in the mood for toasting. But Brad is happy, relaxed, and euphoric. So Nate ignores the tiny voice and smiles. For once, he doesn't want to be realistic.

"Cheers."

At home Nate realizes he's vaguely drunk. He stumbles on the stairs but he doesn't care too much. It's a pleasant sensation that makes him feel euphoric and relaxed.

"You're drunk," Brad says, amused.

"No, I'm not."

Nate takes his sweater and t-shirt off and lets them fall to the floor. He can hear Brad laughing quietly behind him.  
He falls sprawled on the bed and closes his eyes. Then, Brad is above him. They kiss and hump and Nate vaguely remembers doing something like this on his dorm bed at the college. The guy's name was Justin. Or Jesse. He can't remember.

When Brad starts sucking his nipple, Nate totally forgets about Justin, or Jesse.

"I wanna hear you beg and cry out tonight," Brad murmurs against his skin. "And I want to leave marks all over your body."

Brad slips his hand inside Nate's jeans and starts stroking him.

"Do it however the fuck you want," Nate manages to say. "Just do it now."

When Brad blindfolds him and ties his wrists behind his head the only thing Nate is able to say is "Oh God."  
He can almost see Brad's smirk.

***

Nate's not sure if the thumping is just in his head or somebody is hammering the whole house down. He grunts and then opens his eyes. The annoying sound comes from a heavy rain against the windows and for a while he seriously considers closing his eyes and sleeping away his hangover. But Brad is already up, the scent of freshly made coffee is coming from downstairs. And he needs to study. With a massive effort he rises from the bed and takes a long shower.

"Morning.". The sight of Brad so perfectly awake and healthy and already back from his morning jog makes Nate feel even more miserable.

"Morning to you." Brad hands him aspirin and water and a bright smile. "How do you feel?"

Nate swallows the aspirin and reaches for the cup of coffee.

"Sore, tired, dizzy. My head hurts and I'm not sure if I need to puke or eat. I've been worse. Any news from your parents?" He asks casually.

"Of course. They're having fun, in spite of the weather; I think they raided every toys shop they found along the way. And they say hello."

"More toys? I wonder where we're going to put them."

"We 'll inform he Pattersons that the two trucks of toys are part of the package," Brad says pensively.

Nate's stomach clenches.

"Package?"

"It's a joke, Nate."

"Ok, but we just met the Pattersons once; you're already assuming they're going to take the boys?" Nate tries to keep his tone heaven but Brad lifts his eyebrow in mild annoyance.

"What the fuck is wrong with you this morning? I thought we agreed about the Pattersons."

"We did. It's just … how will be telling them?"

"Tell whom? About what?" Brad asks, confused.

"The kids. About the adoption. We need to tell them about it, we can't just pick them up and deliver them at the Pattersons' door."

Brad studies him as if Nate has grown two heads.

"I thought we opted for that gradual introduction thing."

"Yes, but don't you think that they'll be suspicious about these new people suddenly showing up at our place and showing interest in them? Don't you think Ray will ask questions?"

Brad sits in front of him and looks Nate straight in the eyes.

"Then I'll answer their questions. But I'm not going to rush things. We'll tell them at the right moment."

"And when do you think the right moment will be? It's not like we have a lot of time."

Brad's look is a mix of determination and impatience. "Nate, we'll make it right. I promise you."

Nate wishes he could believe it.

"Ok," he says in the end.

***

Nate spends the day studying. Brad takes a four-hour ride on his bike, heedless of the heavy rain and the cold.

When Brad's parents return with the kids in late afternoon, the house is suddenly filled with voices, chatting and laughing. The gloomy feeling of the rainy Sunday disappears and Nate and Brad enjoy the boys' enthusiasm and the tales of their visit to the Zoo.

Nate is in the kitchen, pouring more tea, when Brad's mom joins him.

"You want some more tea?" he asks politely.

"Sure, thank you."

Mrs. Colbert sips from her mug. "You did an amazing job with the boys," she says in the end. "The both of you."

Nate stiffens. "It wasn't easy."

"No, I'm not saying that. I know very well it's not. But I just wanted you to know."

She leaves without another word and Nate is left staring at his hands clenched around his mug.

When Brad drives his parents to the airport, Nate puts the kids to bed. They're exhausted and, for once, nobody complains. Even Ray is quieter than usual.

Nate's already closing the door behind him when Ray calls him back.

"Hey! Shouldn't you be sleeping already?" Nate asks, kneeling beside Ray's bed.

"Can we go to Granma's for Thanksgiving? I wanna go surfing with Dad."

Nate ruffles Ray's hair. "Maybe. We'll see."

He wonders if Brad's mother is behind this but, after all, he doesn't care.

***

"Nate!"

Nate jumps in his seat. He was so absorbed in reading the e-mail from Professor Ferrando that he didn't hear Brad approaching. "What?"

"Are you still with us? I've been calling you for a while. I'm taking James and Walt for a walk."

Nate nods distractedly.

"Nate, what the fuck is going on?"

Nate heaves a long breath and points at his laptop screen. " Ferrando has finally summoned us. For the mess with Schwetje, I suppose."

"When?"

"This afternoon."

"Well, at least the wait is over."

"What if I'm out?"

Brad shakes his head. "No, he can't do that, and if he does, we'll appeal it."

Nate snorts. "It's fucking Harvard, Brad. They're like the Corps, they don't appreciate it when you buck the establishment."

"Then we recon them and find a way to make them pay for it, don't we, boys?"

"We shoot them!" James says and Walt agrees.

Nate can't help laughing.

"Well, I do feel better now, I swear. You two would be great Recon Marines, you know?"

"I want to be a Marine," Walt says looking proudly at his father.

"I want to be a sniper," James adds, stuttering a little on the last word.

Brad smiles at him. "You see? We already have a team. So you don't have to worry, we've got your six. Let's go, kids, we have some training to do."

***

When Nate's meeting finally ends it's already dark. It could have been worse, all things considered. Still, Nate can't understand how people like Schwetje can keep on having their butts covered.

He feels drained, his head hurts, and he has to swallow the fact that, when politics are involved, justice takes a back seat.

He sees the woman a split second before she runs in front of his car. It's from sheer instinct that he steers to the left and breaks; and it's pure luck that nobody is in the opposite lane at that moment.  
Nate manages to maneuver his car back into his own lane, then pulls over to side of the road to stop.

The woman is still standing in the middle of the road, eyes wide in terror. She's holding a little girl by the hand and the girl starts crying. Nate opens the door but the woman mutters some sort of apology, grabs the baby and runs toward the traffic light.

Nate looks at his hands; they're shaking. His whole body is shaking. He feels overwhelmed. It could have ended much worse. If he hadn't been so distracted. if he wasn't so tired. If he wasn't so upset...

He rests his head on the steering wheel and when he feels his eyes burn with unshed tears, he doesn't even try to hold them back.

He needs to let it all go right now; just for a little while.

The look Brad turns him when Nate finally arrives home speaks volume.

"You scared the shit out of me," Brad says.

"I told you on the cell, nothing happened. That lady just came out of nowhere, she was probably distracted or in a hurry. Anyway, I was going slow so nothing happened."

"You're ok, man?"

Ray's in the kitchen door and is looking at him with a worried face.

"Sure, I'm fine. Don't worry Ray."

"That bitch." Ray shakes his head and Nate doesn't feel like scowling him for breaking the not swearing rule. It was his own first thought, after all. That bitch.

"How did the meeting go?" Brad asks, offering Nate a most welcome bottle of beer.

Nate shrugs. Weirdly enough, the meeting that seemed so important a few hours ago, is now just something he's already overcome.

"Ferrando said Schwetje should have done his job as an Assistant and notified us about the exam being moved up. He apologized personally. But the exam is not going to be postponed. He said to consider this some sort of... field practice."

"Is Ferrando at least going to relieve Schwetje of his position?"

Nate smile is bitter. "You gotta be kidding. It's all about politics."

"Fucking asshole," Brad mutters. "Listen. Tony asked if we want to go out for a beer, tonight. It could be a chance for you to put this shit out of your mind for a few hours. The boys're staying with Jenny."

Nate is not in the mood for this. But he also knows how much time Brad has spent with the kids lately and, most of the time, stuck at home.

"No, but you go. Really. I'd be a bad company. I'll stay with them; maybe we'll watch a movie, or something. Go, take a break. You deserve it."

Nate touches Brad's face and smiles at him.

"You sure?" Brad sounds skeptical.

"More than sure. You need to get outta here for a few hours. And I'm going to stay with them."

"Ok, then." Brad throws him another unconvinced look.

Spending the evening with the kids turns out to be a good idea. They keep him distracted with their incessant chatting and bantering. They cook dinner together; he helps Ray with his homework and gives him suggestions for the debate competition.

At ten, James falls asleep on the carpet where they are playing Legos and Nate feels he can't keep his own eyes open.

"Ok, kids, time for bed." He picks James up and Walt follows him obediently.

"Nate, can I stay up for a while?" Ray begs with his best puppy eyes.

Nate opens his mouth, the "no" ready to slip out automatically. Then he tightens his lips and nods briefly.

"Ok. One more hour. And no porn."

Ray smiles back, wide and blazing. "Yes, sir!"

***

Nate is trying to concentrate on a book when Walt peeks in.

"Are you awake?" Walt asks from the door.

"Well, apparently I am."

"Do you want me to read you a story so you can sleep?"

"I would love it. C'mon, come over here."

Walt jumps on the bed and sneaks under the quilt, then opens his book and pretends to read a story about a boy who became a Marine and traveled around the world in his Humvee killing bad people and bad professors.

Nate settles comfortably on the pillow and lets Walt's soft voice lull him.

He doesn't hear Brad coming home until Brad wakes him up with soft kisses on his neck.

"What did I miss here?" Brad whispers, "I had to carry Walt back to his bed."

Nate smiles and keeps his eyes close. He feels cozy and relaxed. All the tension of the day seems momentarily distant, almost unreal. "He read me a bedtime story. Apparently it worked since I didn't even realize I fell dead asleep."

Brad's breath is warm against his skin when he laughs quietly. "He's a great kid, isn't he?"

"Yeah. They all are. I don't want them to go away, Brad." The words spill out before Nate even realizes he's saying them. He can feel Brad tensing against him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean... You know..."

"Nate. We can't." Brad's voice is hard and determined.

"I know. I was just thinking that I was starting to get used to all this. I'm going to miss them very much."

Brad doesn't pull away from him but his body stays stiff. They don't speak and Nate listens to the racing beat of his own heart until the slight loosening of Brad's arms around him tells him Brad's fallen asleep.


	8. Part VIII

They don't discuss the subject anymore but something in Brad's attitude changes, and Nate notices it. Brad is more detached, more nervous, and stubbornly avoids every reference to the adoption. It's when Brad asks the Pattersons to move their visit up without first consulting him that Nate finally corners him.

"What the fuck are you doing, Brad?"

"You mean at this precise moment or in general?"

"You know very fucking well what I mean. Last week you said we had all the time in the world, and now you're rushing everything. So I'm asking again. What the fuck are you doing?"

The repressed tension almost crackles in the air; in the end it's Brad who lowers his eyes.

"They called me back to Pendleton."

Nate feels Brad's words like a physical blow.

"When?"

"Three weeks."

"But they said-"

"I know what the fuck they said. But you know how it works. It's either in or out."

Nate swallows but his voice comes out stronger than he thought it would.

"Right. Then we better make this agreement with the Pattersons work, hadn't we?" He turns and leaves.

"Nate! What the fuck. Come here."

But Nate doesn't feel he can talk right now.

***

Their first impression of the Pattersons is strongly confirmed during their second visit. The way they bond with the kids is magical. Nate watches them play and laugh and the thought that two strangers will officially become Ray's and Walt's and James' parents in a short while makes him feel dizzy.

When James calls to him to join them, Nate has to work hard to pretend everything is ok.

"I think it went very well."

Nate is working on his laptop when finally Brad joins him that night.

"Yeah." Nate keeps on writing.

"Nate."

Nate stops and stares at the screen for a while. Then he turns to Brad.

"What? I agree, it went fine. Sorry but I need to concentrate on the exam now. It's in six days, just in case you forgot."

"How could I forget since you constantly remind me about it? You're not making it any easier." Brad's voice is low, probably so as not to wake the kids.

"It's _not_ going to be easy. Telling them won't be easy. Watching them go won't be easy. Going back to our former life won't be easy."

"I know. But we're Marines, we make do."

"You know, Brad, you'd better learn that not every fucking rule that works for the Corps also works in real life. Especially when feelings are involved."

"I'm going to meet with the Pattersons and the Agency next Thursday to finalize the details. If things go how I think they will, I'm going to tell the kids that very day."

Nate doesn't miss "I" taking the place of "we".

"Very well. Good luck, then." He gathers his books and heads for the kitchen.

***

Nate Fick has made it a point in his life to fight moments of discouragement with hard work. So he finishes his project for CNAS overnight and throws himself body and soul into studying.

He spends most of his time at the Harvard Library and he tries to ignore the worried and slightly disappointed looks the kids throw him. The forthcoming exam provides him a more than valid excuse to be on his own and Brad, for his part, barely talks to him.

So, when Ray's school calls asking for Brad's immediate presence, Nate feels at a complete loss.

"It's been a few days, actually," Brad informs him while he gathers his jacket and his car's key. "I don't know what's wrong with Ray but he's bitchy and unmanageable."

"Oh," Nate says, trying to suppress the surge of guilt.

"Oh!" Brad mocks him.

***

"He got into a fight with another student," Brad informs Nate when he and Ray finally return. "And he's been kicked off of the debate team."

Nate watches Ray run upstairs without even looking at him.

"Why?"

Brad shakes his head. "He didn't want to tell me. He said he had his reasons."

"He'll spit it out, sooner of later. I'm pretty sure of it." Nate says, but he has to fight the urge to run after Ray and talk to him. He turns his head mechanically back to his books but he can feel Brad's eyes on him.

"If you say so. He's grounded, in the meantime. No TV. No Internet. No iPod."

"Grounded? This might be your last week with him and you think it's better to ground him for a schoolyard skirmish?"

Brad's eyes widen. "You're fucking unbelievable, you know, Nate? You're adamant about following rules but then you don't think twice about breaking them as soon as they don't suit your plans."

"It's called flexibility, Brad. Something you should practice sometimes. Especially with your son."

Brad's jaw tightens and Nate immediately regrets his own words.

"Dad? Can I have cereal?" Walt's watching them from the door. He meets Nate eyes for a brief moment but looks away again. Nate is hurt by this and this pain surprises him even more.

He turns back to his books. He'll get over all this shit. Eventually.

***

The weekend passes in a weird bubble of tense silence. Ray still refuses to tell them what happened at school and is even more pissed off by his punishment. Walt's eyes dart worriedly from Nate to Brad every time they are in the same room and James is restless and whimsical.

They make an effort to act politely in front of the kids but most of the time they ignore each other.  
In spite of his determination and stubbornness, Nate finds it harder and harder to concentrate on his exam. He's aware that he and Brad both are making this shit worst way possible but he's at loss about how to face Brad and, most of all, how to make it right.

On Monday morning, after a sleepless night locked in the attic reading his notes over and over again, Nate's finally ready to go and face his fate. He's so tired he's not even worried anymore. He just can't wait for the day to be over.  
It's cold outside, and the sky is covered with dark clouds that promise rain. Brad is sitting on the front porch's steps. And he's smoking.

Nate's seen Brad smoke only twice. The night Brad asked him to move in together and the day Brad met his children after Sheila's death.

Nate sits beside him, takes the cigarette from Brad's fingers and takes a long drag.

"It's D-Day," Brad says after a moment of tense silence.

"Yeah. I can't wait for this shit to be over." It sounds wrong but Nate hopes Brad understands he's talking about the exam. He tentatively touches Brad's hand but Brad pulls away and keeps his eyes focused somewhere in front of him.

"I'm sorry," Nate says. "I'm making it harder than it already is. Bad timing, I suppose. All these things happening at the same time."

When Brad finally turns to him, his eyes are red rimmed and swollen and it's enough to melt Nate's remaining resentment away.

"You think I'm doing this because I don't care about them," Brad says. "But you're wrong. I'm doing it 'cause I _do_ care for them so much sometimes I feel paralyzed with fear that I might do something wrong and ruin their lives forever. The mere thought I won't pick James' toys off the floor anymore, or I won't listen to Ray's babbling or I won't teach Walt to read anymore makes me feel so sick I can't breath. But I can't see another option right now. I'll be back in Pendleton in less then a month. And this crazy schedule of yours with school, articles, projects for CNAS... This's not an exception. It's going to be the rule."

Nate carefully slips an arm around Brad's shoulders and finally Brad gives in and hides his face in the hollow of Nate's shoulder. Nate can feel the wetness on his neck and just holds Brad tighter.

"I know all this. I never thought for a second that you didn't want the kids around. It just ... fuck. I'm going to miss them so much."

"Give me just one option, Nate. Just a single option and I'm ready to tell the Pattersons I'm sorry but the kids stay with me."

Nate wishes he had something to offer, but he knows Brad is right.

"The Pattersons are the best family we could hope for, for the boys," he says in the end.

"Yeah."

A car stops and a horn honks.

"Fuck, Eric's here. He's giving me a lift." Nate wishes he could stay but Brad nudges him to go, already looking a little more under control.

"Go and show those politician retards at Harvard what you're made of."

Nate stands.

"I'll do that," he says, trying to sound convincing. Nate stops halfway to the street and turns back to Brad. "I'm with you in this," he says. And he means it.

Brad smiles. "Yeah, I know.

***

As soon as they all arrive in the classroom, Schwetje informs them that the exam has been postponed until the afternoon, due to Professor Ferrando's sudden engagement. Schwetje delivers the news with his usual unflappable countenance, as if he's telling them they're going to serve rice instead of pasta.  
A disappointed buzz runs through the students and the idiot smile plastered on Schewtje's monkey-like face – the same expression that earned him the Encino Man nickname – turns the buzzing into a loud and angry protest.

"It's not that professor Ferrando is doing this on purpose, you know?" Schwetje says. "It's just that he, uhm, had something more important to do."

Eric Kocher simply shakes his head. "Can you believe this piece of shit is paid a shitload of money for _not_ doing his job?"

The exam lasts four hours. Four endless hours during which Ferrando grills them in a way that makes Nate think back to SERE like it was a picnic.

When it's finally over, Nate's so dazed he has to sit in the cold air for fifteen minutes with his eyes closed.

Out of twenty-three students, only five of them made it through. Nate has to control a fit of hysterical laughter. He remembers he hasn't called Brad yet and switches his cell on.

It starts beeping immediately with close to twenty missed call and voicemail notices.

They're all from Brad's cell, their home phone, and Mike Wynn's cell.

He has the sudden feeling that something very bad has happened. His hands shake when he dials Brad's number, but Brad's cell is turned off. He calls home and when Mike's voice answers, Nate has to sit down on the chilly steps before his knees give way.

"Mike, what-"

"Nate, no need to panic. James had an accident and Brad took him at the ER. I don't think it's anything serious. Anyway, they're at the ER now and I'm here with Ray and Walt. Just come here so I can drive you to the hospital."

"Ok."

The calculated calmness in Mike's voice doesn't help. His Recon training doesn't help either. Nate starts panicking and he's aware of it. He simply doesn't know what to do.

"Hey man, congrats!" The strong slap on his back brings him back to reality. It's Steven Lovell, one of the few students who survived Ferrando's inquisition and he's positively beaming.

"Thanks," Nate manages to say. "Can you give me a lift? I need to get home right away."

Lovell gives him a worried look.

"You look like shit. Are you sure you're feeling ok?"

Nate nods. "Yeah, I just need to get home as soon as possible."

"Sure thing."

Nate gives him the address and it turns out that Steven is a hell of a driver. He gets Nate home in less than thirty minutes.

"It's one of my kids," Nate finally tells him. "Something happened. I don't know, I don't think it's anything serious but I have to get to the hospital."

"Shit, man. This sucks. Good luck. I hope it's nothing serious."

"Yeah." Nate desperately wishes Lovell is right.

Ray and Walt run up to him the moment he opens the door. They both start talking at the same time and Nate has to hush them several times to make them stop. He kneels in front of them. Walt's eyes are full of tears. Ray is pale and more scared than Nate's ever seen him. He exchanges a look with Mike who's already putting on his coat.

"I don't know what happened," Ray says. "He was playing and then he just started breathing hard, like if he was gagging, and then he got all red and then he passed out. I thought he was suffocating and then Dad grabbed him and went to the hospital."

"Nate... Is he going to die, like Mom?" Walt's face is ghostly pale.

"Die? No, what're you thinking? He's going to be okay. Com'ere." He opens his arms and Walt and Ray both snuggle against him. He can feel Ray finally giving in to fear and starting to sob against him.

"Now let's go to the ER and we'll see that James is okay, right? C'mon, let's put your coats on and then we can go."

Mike drives in silence while Nate sits in the back seat with Ray and Walt still clinging at him. Walt falls into an exhausted sleep almost immediately.

He can't bear thinking that something bad has happened to James. Mike had told him that Brad called while he was driving to the ER and asked if he could go look after the kids and try to contact Nate. Brad seemed worried but in control. Brad had said he wasn't going to wait for a fucking ambulance.

James is simply too young for something bad to happen to him, Nate thinks. This is simply a no go.

"Is that why you want to give us up for adoption?" Ray asks quietly, disentangling from Nate's arm. "Because we cause problems?"

The question catches Nate totally off guard and hits him like a violent blow to his stomach. For a moment, he considers lying, telling Ray that nobody is going to be adopted, but the quiet, resigned tone in the kid's voice makes him change his mind. At least, he owes this to Ray.

"No, Ray, this has nothing to do with you. None of you. You don't cause any problems. You never did. Apparently, your father and I haven't grown enough balls to take on any responsibility. You deserve real parents, Ray, and not two fucked-up, conflicted gay men who pretend they're tough guys just because they beat the shit out of some Hajis during a war."

Ray shrugs and keeps his eyes turned toward the window. "If my opinion has any value in this, you did pretty well with us weirdos, even if you _are_ two fucked-up, conflicted gay men that sometimes go hysterical and have an anal fixation with rules and discipline. Among other things."

Nate releases a choked laugh and pulls Ray back.

"How did you know?" He asks softly after a while.

Ray shrugs. "You and Dad keep on fighting, and then those Pattersons showing up suddenly and being nice and curious around us. It's not that I didn't expect it."

Shit. A few things are starting to make sense to Nate. Like Ray being so cranky and getting into a fight at school.

"Here we are," Mike says.

Ray looks at him and in that moment, Nate knows what to do.

"I'm going to fix this shit, Ray. I swear."

Ray offers him a tiny but trustful smile.

***

Brad is pacing back and forth in front of the emergency room doors. He looks like a caged animal and when he sees Nate and the kids approaching, he stops. He seems on the verge of a breakdown and Nate can just about feel the physical effort Brad is making to stay calm in front of Ray and Walt.

Nate hugs him and feels the ragged breath and the too-fast beat of Brad's heart. Probably, for the fist time in his adult life, Brad has to deal with a situation he can't manage by simply remaining aloof. A situation that involves one of his sons, and this must kill him. Nate understands the feeling well.

"What happened?" Nate asks, when finally Brad lets go of him. Walt touches Brad's hand and Brad smiles at him, picks him up and puts his free arm around Ray's shoulder. The kids cling to him and this seems to give Brad a bit of his strength back.

"I don't know. He ... just started wheezing, he couldn't breath. I couldn't waste a single second to call for an ambulance, I just brought him here." Brad's voice shakes a little.

"You did the right thing, Brad. It was the right thing to do."

"Yeah, I tried to call you but, you know, your cell was off. You were in the middle of your exam. How did it go, by the way?" Brad's effort to stay calm is overwhelming.

"Good, it went well. I'm sorry; they don't let us keep our cells on. Fuck that! Fuck that stupid exam. If only-"

"It's ok, Nate. You're here now. That's what really matters."

They exchange a look that speaks volumes. If Nate looks half as worried and helpless as Brad looks, they must appear to be a pathetic lot. He tries to collect himself, at least for Ray and Walt's sake.

"Did anybody talk to you already?"

Brad shakes his head. "No, nobody's told me anything yet. It's been two fucking hours; it's driving me crazy, Nate."

"I know. C'mon, let's sit here and wait together, okay?"

"Okay."

The emergency room opens that moment and a young doctor, wearing a pissed off look and a camo colored bandanna that passes for a surgical cap, strides toward them. Nate has to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Who's the father?" the doctor asks shortly.

"I ... I'm James' Dad," Brad says. He's ghostly pale and Nate squeezes his arm reassuringly.

"I'm Doctor Tim Bryan. It seems James has developed an allergic reaction to peanuts. He ate something with peanuts in it and went into anaphylaxis. You saved his life bringing him here quickly."

Doc Bryan offers them a half smile.

"But is he all right?"

"Yes. He's fine. We treated him with epinephrine and now he has an IV with antihistamine and saline. I'm going to run a few more tests and then he should be ready to go home."

The surge of relief is so great that Nate has to restrain himself kissing the doctor.

"Really? We can take him home? Is he really out of danger?" Brad asks, trying to keep his emotions under control.

"Yes, I'm going to give you some after-care instructions to follow for a few days, then we'll take some more test. In the meantime, anything that could possibly contain peanuts - butter, sweets, whatever – must disappear from his life."

"I didn't know he was allergic to peanuts. I mean, I made him peanut butter toast but I didn't know ..." Brad sounds lost but Doctor Bryan shakes his head firmly.

"You know about it now. Most childhood allergies come on sudden and unannounced. As I said, your promptness saved his life and this is what really matters. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be back with James in less than an hour."

"Okay."

They stand still, watching the intense doctor stride away.

"Is James ok?" Walt asks with a cautious smile.

"Yep," Ray answers, "my plans to be a only son need to be improved."

"Ray!" Brad slaps him on his head, but they're both smiling.

Doctor Bryan returns half an hour later, holding a slightly pale but smiling James. Nate takes Walt from Brad's arms to let him hold James. He watches Brad holding his son, eyes closed and a happy, relieved smile that makes him look vulnerable. Nate's determination grows stronger.

Doctor Bryan offers lollipops to the kids and gives Brad and Nate some leaflets with information about allergies in children. They schedule an appointment for the next week to check on James' condition.

"Once again," the doctor says while he accompanies them to the elevator, "do not blame yourself for what happened. On the contrary, remember that you saved his life. Unfortunately, parents tend to panic when something like this happens and when they finally call us, most of the time the situation is critical, if not fatal. You're lucky kid, you know?" Doctor Bryan says ruffling James' hair.

James smiles back and then hides his face on his father's shoulder.

***

They get home at four in the morning and put the half-asleep kids to bed. Nate texts Mike to inform him they're home and James is fine. Then he takes a shower while Brad sits cross-legged on the bed, carefully reading the brochures Doc Bryan gave them.

When Nate finally emerges from the bathroom, Brad's gone.

He finds him sitting beside James' bed, his head resting on the kid's pillow. Nate kneels behind him, embraces him and lays his forehead on Brad's shoulder.

"I can't believe I almost lost this little shit," Brad says after a while.

"But you didn't. That's what really matters. You heard Doc Bryan, you actually saved his life."

"Yeah. But I can't stop thinking that, maybe, if it was somebody else instead of me ... you know, it could have ended badly."

"But it was you."

Brad turns and draws Nate close.

"You were right, you know?" Brad says, his voice just a whisper. "I don't wanna lose them. I can't do that."

Nate's heart skips a beat but he tries to keep his voice even. "I know."

"I spent half my life asking myself why my natural parents rejected me and the other half hating them for it. I don't want my children go through the same thing."

He can see Brad's eyes in the dim glow of the night-light, they shine with the man-on-a-mission determination Nate has came to know and trust.

"It's going to be hard."

"Yeah, I know this, too," Nate admits.

"Growing up with two fathers will make them look like freaks; they'll go through a lot of shit for this. They'll never be like normal kids."

"Normal for whom? Normal is a very relative concept. Think of the Addams Family they're much happier in their dysfunctional way than the people who judge them. And they don't consider themselves different."

"Are you comparing us to the Addams Family?" Brad asks, incredulous.

"Well, considering it's these kids we're talking about, I'd say the Fireflies are more appropriate but, you know what I mean. I'd prefer them to be happy and different than unhappy and conventional. And we know they are happy with us."

"I'm leaving for Pendleton in a couple of weeks."

"I'm going to take a year sabbatical from the University."

Nate awaits while Brad processes the new piece of information.

"You're doing what? You gotta be kidding."

Even in the dark, Nate can feel the intensity of Brad's stare on him.

"No, I'm pretty serious, actually. I keep asking myself if it's really worth it. All this chaos, I mean; all that elitist bullshit they feed us at Harvard. For what? To be treated like a worthless piece of shit by a Teaching Assistant who has the brain of a grub and his nose so buried in Dean Mattis' ass he can smell his shit? Whatever Harvard has to offer me, is still going to be there in a year. I realized it's the right thing to do. And I'm not going to change my mind."

Brad's breath speeds up a little. It's a sort of strategy game, but Nate knows he's already won.

"Nate, I might be away for two, even three months."

"Then I won't be waiting alone this time. Ray has school; Walt will soon go to kindergarten. This leave me with James, and I can handle him. We might also consider sending him to pre-school. We can come visit sometimes. You can teach Ray to surf. Besides, I bet your parents will be more than happy to stay with the kids if we want to spend some quality time alone."

"And what if you can't stay with them? What if you're asked to go somewhere for your job, or if you're sick, or-"

"I will do what every other parent does: I'll ask for help. Parents, sisters, friends, babysitters ... besides, they're not going to stay young and helpless forever."

Brad heaves a deep sigh.

"You've already figured everything out, haven't you? Captain Fick, the strategist." But there's no anger in Brad's voice, just amusement.

"The truth? Apart from my decision to take a year off from Harvard, I didn't. I'm figuring it out right now, while we're talking. It must be my aptitude for problem solving during critical situations." Nate smiles even though he knows Brad can't see him.

"You should have engaged in politic, your art of persuasion is impressive."

"Well, you know me. I hardly give in."

Brad kisses his forehead and they enjoy the moment of relaxed intimacy. All the anxiety and the stress of the last days is starting to melt away.

"You know this is going to make Iraq look like a vacation, right?" Brad says, but now it sounds more like a simple consideration about their future than an argument."

"I know. But we're Marines. We make do. We always do."

Brad kisses him, sweetly.

"Did I ever tell you that I love you?" Brad whispers against Nate's lips.

"No. But you can tell me now. I love you, too, by the way."

The room goes quiet. Only the kids' breathing and the sounds of soft kisses break the otherwise utter silence.

 

"Hey! Can you two soppy romantics please stop this mushiness? Jesus Christ, you're so gonna give me diabetes!"

*** FIN***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 1: the Fireflys are a family of psychopathic, sadist assassins from Rob Zombie's masterpieces House of 1000 Corpses and The Devil's Rejects
> 
> Note 2: I took some liberties. I live in Italy and, even though I made researches, I'm not pretty sure how classes at Harward work. I improvised and made things in a way that suited my plans. I also don't know if something as the "gradual introduction program" for adoption exists or even makes sense. But it's an AU so I hope nobody mind if I made it up
> 
> Note 3: I'm Italian and it's with great respect and admiration for the English language that I ventured on this story, but if it wasn't for Kahtya Sofia's beta job and help I'd never made it through.


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